Harlem

By Langston Hughes


What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore—
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over—
      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags
      like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

If you liked this, check out these other great modern classic poems.

Find Meat On Bones, By Dylan Thomas

The Rose That Grew From Concrete, By Tupac Shakur

On The Road Again, By Bob Dylan

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