Langston Hughes

Dream Variation

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance

white day

Not just daylight—'white' carries racial weight. The day he must dance through is coded white, while night is 'dark like me.' He's mapping time onto race.

Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
 Dark like me,—
That is my dream!
To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,

In some place vs. In the face

First stanza: dancing 'in some place' (somewhere safe). Second stanza: 'in the face of' (direct confrontation). The dream gets bolder.

Dance! whirl! whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening. . . .
A tall, slim tree. . . .

gently / tenderly

Night comes with care—'gently,' then 'tenderly.' The darkness that matches his skin arrives as comfort, not threat. Reversal of the usual fear of darkness.

Night coming tenderly
 Black like me.

Dark like me / Black like me

The shift from 'Dark' to 'Black' between stanzas. Hughes capitalizes the racial identity in the second version, making it explicit rather than metaphorical.

Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Color-Coded Day

Hughes published this in 1924, during the Harlem Renaissance, when he was 22. The poem maps a day onto racial experience: white day that must be endured, Black night that brings rest.

The word choice is surgical. 'White day' isn't just bright—it's the white world he must perform in. He uses active, exhausting verbs: fling, whirl, dance. The day requires constant motion, performance, energy. Then night comes gently, tenderly—the only moments in the poem with soft adverbs.

Notice what he's reversing: darkness as refuge, not danger. In 1924 America, Blackness was associated with threat, primitiveness, fear. Hughes makes night the safe space. The tree he rests under appears in both versions, but gets more specific in the second: tall, slim—almost a self-portrait. He's placing himself in the landscape.

The Two Versions

The poem gives you the dream twice, with key changes. Version 1: 'some place of the sun' (vague, distant), 'Dark like me' (lowercase). Version 2: 'face of the sun' (direct, confrontational), 'Black like me' (capitalized racial identity).

The second version is more urgent. 'Dance! whirl! whirl!'—three exclamations instead of smooth phrasing. The day becomes 'quick' instead of just passing. And 'evening' shifts from 'cool' to 'pale'—the white day is draining of color as night approaches.

The capitalization of Black in the second version is Hughes claiming the word. In 1924, this was radical—'Negro' was the polite term, 'Black' was often derogatory. He's taking it as identity, not insult. The dream gets more explicit, more political, more himself.