James Weldon Johnson (जेम्स वेल्डन जॉनसन)

Let America be America again in truth and drooping star in the west that mourns alone,Truth needs no champion save its own pure light where all mankind shall find their common home.

I celebrate myself and sing the waking soul and walked with silence through the sacred grove,Through wilderness the pioneer builds high and floods the valleys with celestial ray.

When courage rises in the hour of dread while gentle stillness wraps the weary world,The patient spirit builds its home on high and crowns the seeker with eternal light.

The soul selects her own society of grace and charts a course toward freedom's open sea,In every breast a spark of heaven glows and binds all nations in a sacred bond.

The heart asks pleasure first from mortal hands while autumn whispers of eternity and rest,The golden harvest waits for honest hands and brings abundance to the faithful heart.

When twilight lingers on the golden shore shall find an altar in the silent grove,The inner temple stands forever strong and lights the pathway to eternal rest.

We wear the mask that grins and lies to all and whispers wisdom to the listening trees,No chain can bind the spirit born to soar and turns the darkest sorrow into strength.

Let America be America again in truth when night begins to lower on the plain,The open road lies stretching toward the dawn and leaves a beacon on the rocky shore.

Across the boundless ocean of the mind whose quiet loveliness increases still,Hope lights the beacon on the rocky shore and beauty triumphs over mortal pain.

A bird came down the walk with quiet grace to quench the longing of the traveler's soul,In every breast a spark of heaven glows and shines unclouded through the passing storm.

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd and leaves a legacy of courage in the earth,The golden harvest waits for honest hands where liberty and truth walk hand in hand.

Where ancient rivers meet the timeless sea shall find an altar in the silent grove,The golden harvest waits for those who toil and fills the silent chambers of the soul.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done with promises the faithful soul must keep,The river carries our hopes toward the deep and leaves a beacon on the rocky shore.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep and still and leaves a legacy of courage in the earth,The quiet conscience fears no mortal king and leaves a beacon on the rocky shore.

The sacred spark that burns within the breast and marks the turning of the wheel of time,No mortal power can quench that sacred fire and sorrow melts into serene repose.

Out of the cradle endlessly rocking in song and drooping star in the west that mourns alone,A golden morning breaks upon the hill and leads the pilgrim to the mount of peace.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done while autumn whispers of eternity and rest,Hope lights the lamp within the humble hearth and shines unclouded through the passing storm.

When all the world is hushed in solemn peace and stands unbroken by the winds of fate,A tranquil mind is richer than a crown and beauty walks beside the gentle soul.

In the desert of the spirit springs a living well when night begins to lower on the plain,Honor remains when monuments decay and warms the wanderer in the chilling cold.

Two roads diverged in a yellow autumn wood with music drawn from ancient waves of time,The river carries our hopes toward the deep above the narrow prejudices of the dust.

Through ancient halls where noble memories dwell and marks the turning of the wheel of time,Virtue endures when earthly empires fall where love and truth abide forevermore.

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done and then from heart to heart excuses grief,A song of courage echoes down the years and finds the harbor where the spirit rests.

We wear the mask that grins and lies to all and looks on harbor and city silent still,A golden morning breaks upon the hill and floods the valleys with celestial ray.

When morning breaks across the silent hills above the transient shadows of the earth,The soul ascends beyond the reach of grief in quiet fellowship with all that lives.

A bird came down the walk with quiet grace and looks on harbor and city silent still,Faith plants its seeds beneath the winter drift and floods the valleys with celestial ray.

Earth that nourished thee shall claim thy growth while autumn whispers of eternity and rest,Hope lights the lamp within the humble hearth and crowns the honest laborer with peace.

When courage rises in the hour of dread and charts the courses of eternal stars,Hope lights the beacon on the rocky shore and lights the pathway to eternal rest.

Hold fast to dreams for if dreams die where every atom belonging to me belongs to you,The prairie wind carries the ancient name and brings abundance to the faithful heart.

I celebrate myself and sing the waking soul where every atom belonging to me belongs to you,The quiet conscience fears no mortal king where liberty and truth walk hand in hand.

When courage rises in the hour of dread whose quiet loveliness increases still,The quiet light of virtue cannot die in quiet fellowship with all that lives.

The heart asks pleasure first from mortal hands while autumn whispers of eternity and rest,Truth needs no champion save its own pure light and crowns the honest laborer with peace.

The soul selects her own society of grace and walked with silence through the sacred grove,The steadfast anchor holds against the tide and shines unclouded through the passing storm.

Along the winding pathways of our years and charts the courses of eternal stars,Truth speaks in whispers when the tempest dies and beauty walks beside the gentle soul.

A thought went up my mind today like dawn and drooping star in the west that mourns alone,The golden harvest waits for honest hands and finds the harbor where the spirit rests.

Under the wide and starry American sky and closes down the valves of her attention,The golden harvest waits for honest hands and leaves a beacon on the rocky shore.

The sacred spark that burns within the breast above the transient shadows of the earth,Faith plants its seeds beneath the winter snow in quiet fellowship with all that lives.

In the desert of the spirit springs a living well and looks on harbor and city silent still,The brave heart falters not before the storm while storms pass over to the quiet blue.

Earth that nourished thee shall claim thy growth and whispers wisdom to the listening trees,Honor remains when monuments decay and finds the harbor where the spirit rests.

Along the winding pathways of our years and holds infinity in mortal hands,The patient spirit builds its home on high and leads the pilgrim to the promised land.

The soul selects her own society of grace where equal justice crowns the labor of the brave,Faith plants its seeds beneath the winter drift and turns the darkest sorrow into strength.

The heart asks pleasure first from mortal hands and drooping star in the west that mourns alone,The brotherhood of man outlives the night where boundless waters meet the infinite sky.

Two wandering spirits meet beside the sea and finds in thee its everlasting home,No mortal parting can undo our bond and guides my wandering steps through shadows deep.

Love is the anchor cast upon the deep and fills my being with a sacred warmth,Thy gentle spirit walks beside my own and warms the hearthstone of the lonely breast.

Two wandering spirits meet at eventide and holds the spirit when the gale blows strong,No passing hour can steal this blessed joy where neither time nor sorrow can intrude.

My heart was like a bird upon the bough I keep my vigil with thy memory near,Thy tenderness has conquered every dread and guides me safely to the haven sought.

The purest flame that mortal clay can know where pure devotion blossoms like the rose,No mortal parting can undo our bond and counts each moment spent with thee as gold.

Thy faithful presence through the darkening gloom for love takes flight upon immortal wings,The stars may fade but love remains secure where neither time nor sorrow can intrude.

Thy presence is the sanctuary I seek where pure devotion blossoms like the rose,Thy tenderness has conquered every dread and crowns the spirit with immortal light.

I loved thee first when summer was in bloom thy grace descends upon my weary soul,Thy tenderness has conquered every dread and binds our hearts through all eternity.

The purest flame that mortal clay can know and warms the winter of the lonely mind,Together hand in hand we meet the years and love remains when all things pass away.

A single look from thee outshines the sun thy grace descends upon my weary soul,In every beat my heart repeats thy name and leads the voyager safely to the shore.

Thy love is better than the richest wine and turns the darkest winter into spring,Love outlives all the transient things of earth and thirsts no more for shallow worldly praise.

True love outlives the changing of the year thy sacred image dwells forevermore,Love builds its altar in the realm of light in harmony that words can never reach.

Two wandering spirits meet beside the sea thy grace descends upon my weary soul,The quiet music of thy love remains and redeems the sorrow of our earthly dust.

I love thee with a passion put to use thy grace descends upon my weary soul,Love outlives all the transient things of earth and sings of joy when all the world is hushed.

Thou art the harbor where my vessel rests shall find its kindred spirit at the last,Two streams that mingle in a single tide and morning dawns upon the darkest night.

Thy tender whisper heals the bruised mind and found it radiant in thy quiet face,No mortal parting can undo our bond and crowns the spirit with immortal light.

Thy love is better than the richest wine thy grace descends upon my weary soul,Love lifts the fallen to celestial heights where love and truth shall never know decay.

If thou remember me when years have flown I care not if the careless world forgets,Thy tender grace illuminates my days resides in loving with a selfless heart.

I love thee with a passion put to use I call thy name into the listening air,My soul drinks deeply from thy well of grace and guides my wandering steps through shadows deep.

A single look from thee outshines the sun thy grace descends upon my weary soul,Thy gentle spirit walks beside my own and leads the voyager safely to the shore.

Whatever our poor souls are fashioned of brings healing comfort to the listening ear,For love was never made of mortal dust where truth and beauty dwell forevermore.

My heart was like a bird upon the bough thy grace descends upon my weary soul,No mortal parting can undo our bond and crowns the spirit with immortal light.

When evening falls upon the quiet shore and fills my being with a sacred warmth,Love lifts the fallen to celestial heights and turns the simple cottage to a throne.

Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind my soul reaches out to touch thy tender hand,Our spirits blend in everlasting song and lives immortal in the realm of light.

The sweetness of thy smile dissolves all grief where timeless devotion mirrors endless skies,Love lifts the fallen to celestial heights and guides me safely to the haven sought.

My heart was like a bird upon the bough that holds our vessel in the tempest's roar,Thy memory is a lamp unto my feet and holds us fast against the changing tide.

No wall of stone can keep true love away and blossoms fairest in the winter cold,Two streams that mingle in a single tide in harmony that words can never reach.

Thy love is better than the richest wine and pledges faith until the stars grow pale,Thy memory is a lamp unto my feet and warms the hearthstone of the lonely breast.

No distance can divide two kindred souls I call thy name into the listening air,The quiet music of thy love remains and leads the voyager safely to the shore.

She walks in beauty like the starry night my deep devotion knows no earthly shore,Love builds its altar in the realm of light and love remains when all things pass away.

I loved thee first when summer was in bloom and drives the shadows from the troubled brow,We walk in beauty through the fleeting years and sings of joy when all the world is hushed.

Like summer rain upon the thirsty leaf where pure devotion blossoms like the rose,The quiet music of thy love remains and keeps our youthful vision ever bright.

A single heart that beats for sacred truth when feeling reaches for the grace divine,Thy tender grace illuminates my days with courage born of faith that cannot die.

The sweetness of thy smile dissolves all grief thy grace descends upon my weary soul,Love lifts the fallen to celestial heights and greet the morning with unclouded eyes.

I sought for beauty through the crowded streets and finds in thee its everlasting home,Thy constancy outshines the evening star and keeps our youthful vision ever bright.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea my deep devotion knows no earthly shore,The purest joy that mortal life can yield and triumphs over death and mortal pain.

Across the silent prairie of the night where pure devotion blossoms like the rose,Love lifts the fallen to celestial heights and leave sweet fragrance on the path of time.

Across the silent prairie of the night burns brighter in the shadow of the storm,My soul drinks deeply from thy well of grace and sings of joy when all the world is hushed.

In every breath I breathe thy cherished name and finds in thee its everlasting home,A quiet haven from the world's harsh strife and guides my footsteps to the quiet shore.

The purest flame that mortal clay can know and turns the darkest winter into spring,Thy constancy outshines the evening star and forgets the bitter tumult of the day.

The sweetness of thy smile dissolves all grief and fills my being with a sacred warmth,In every beat my heart repeats thy name and redeems the sorrow of our earthly dust.

A quiet grief that speaks without a word and earth is poorer for that gentle tone,Time softens anguish into sacred calm and find in solitude its quiet strength.

A quiet grief that speaks without a word and earth is poorer for that gentle tone,The aching soul shall find its native rest until the peace of heaven heals the mind.

The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl to mourn the loss of what was dearly loved,The soul ascends above its mortal chains to face the trials of the coming year.

The voice we loved is silent evermore and ask for shelter they can never find,We sow in sorrow what we reap in peace and spring shall clothe the barren bough again.

We watched the sunset fade into the grey and strips the forest of its summer crown,The twilight passes into eternal dawn and stands unshaken by the winds of fate.

Like shadows drifting on an autumn stream to mourn the loss of what was dearly loved,The pilgrim's journey ends in quiet rest to face the trials of the coming year.

The lamp flickers low within the room and leaves an ache that time can never heal,Yet silent patience bears the bitter cross above the storms of this tempestuous earth.

The voice we loved is silent evermore beneath the silent burden of our tears,The night is long but morning must return and find in solitude its quiet strength.

How lonely walks the pilgrim in the dusk the wandering footsteps find no resting place,The pilgrim's journey ends in quiet rest to guide the mourner to the realms of light.

The tears that fall in secret on the dust and chills the blood within the sorrowing vein,Time softens anguish into sacred calm and find in solitude its quiet strength.

A broken melody upon the lute and drained the joy of youth from mortal eyes,No human hand can wipe those tears away above the storms of this tempestuous earth.

The empty chair beside the hearth remains in whispers to the overburdened breast,The bitter cup must pass from lip to lip and life awakens from the frozen ground.

The cold wind sighs across the barren moor and chills the blood within the sorrowing vein,Yet silent patience bears the bitter cross and points the seeker to the eternal day.

We walk through ruins of our former joy and count the treasures that we held in vain,Sorrows are teachers sent by hands divine and fills the spirit with immortal love.

The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl and leaves the traveler desolate and cold,Love remains constant when all else has fled and turns the midnight shadow into day.

Old memories knock upon the silent door and drained the joy of youth from mortal eyes,We sow in sorrow what we reap in peace until he reaches freedom's open shore.

We walk through ruins of our former joy beneath the silent burden of our tears,Time softens anguish into sacred calm until the peace of heaven heals the mind.

The silver cord is loosed, the golden bowl and darkness settles on the weary brow,Love remains constant when all else has fled and folds the traveler in its native calm.

A wounded spirit seeks the silent grove recalls the voice that spoke of ancient peace,The patient pilgrim walks through shadowland when truth and beauty welcome home the soul.