You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may **** me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise
again and again.

She walks in Beauty, like the night,
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
So soft, so calm,
Or softly lightens o'er her face,
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

The clouds had made a crimson crown,
Above the mountains high,
The stormy sun was going down,
In a stormy sky.

Why did you let your eyes so rest on me,
And hold your breath between?
In all the ages this can never be,
As if it had not been.