Fences

In Glogpedia

by agibsonsc
Last updated 6 years ago

Discipline:
Language Arts
Subject:
Book Reports

Toggle fullscreen Print glog
Fences

African-American playwright August Wilson won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award for his play Fences, and earned a second Pulitzer Prize for The Piano Lesson.African-American playwright August Wilson won a Pulitzer Prize and a Tony Award for his play Fences, and earned a second Pulitzer Prize for The Piano Lesson.August Wilson wrote his first notable play in 1979, Jitney, for which he earned a fellowship at the Minneapolis Playwright Center.

1945- End of WWII1948- Apartheid in America began for African Americans1945-1965: Civil Rights Movement To fight for African American Equality

NEW NEGRO

If We Must Die"If we must die, let it not be like hogsHunted and penned in an inglorious spot,While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,Making their mock at our accursed lot.If we must die, O let us nobly dieSo that our precious blood may not be shedIn vain; then even the monsters we defyShall be constrained to honor us though dead!O kinsmen! We must meet the common foe!Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,And for their thousand blows deal one death blow!What though before us lies the open grave?Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!Source: Claude McKay, “If We Must Die,” in Harlem Shadows: The Poems of Claude McKay (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1922).

Citations

Wilson, August. "Fofweb.com - Facts On File Online Databases - Fofwebcom - Site Info." SiteInfoTool. N.p., Mar.-Apr. 2007. Web. 08 May 2014.Wilson, August. "Browse Collections by Topic." American Memory from the Library of Congress. N.p., Mar.-Apr. 2012. Web. 06 May 2014.

Fences by August Wilson

Biography

1941-1971

Troy

August Wilson

Rose

The ills I sorrow at Not me alone Like an arrow, Pierce to the marrow, Through the fat, And past the bone. Your grief and mine Must intertwine Like sea and river, Be fused and mingle, Diverse yet single, Forever and forever. Let no man be so proud And confident, To think he is allowed A little tent Pitched in a meadow Of sun and shadow All his little own. Joy may be shy, unique, Friendly to a few, Sorrow never scorned to speak To any who Were false or true. Your every grief Like a blade Shining and unsheathed Must strike me down. Of bitter aloes wreathed, My sorrow must be laid On your head like a crown.

Any Human to Another


Comments

    There are no comments for this Glog.