Author Langston Hughes Plant your toes in the cool swamp mud.Step and leave no track.Hurry, sweating runner!The hounds are at your back.No I didn't touch herWhite flesh ain't for me.Hurry! Black boy, hurry!They'll swing you to a tree. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 3.7 (9 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments