... jazz to me is one of the inherent expressions of Negro life in America: the eternal tom-tom beating in the Negro soul–the tom-tom of revolt against weariness in a white world, a world of subway trains, and work, work, work; the tom-tom of joy and laughter, and pain swallowed in a smile.
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon, I heard a Negro play.Down on Lennox Avenue the other nightBy the pale dull pallor of an old gas light He did a lazy sway.... He did a lazy sway....To the tune o' those Weary Blues.With his ebony hands on each ivory keyHe made that poor piano moan with melody. (The Poetry of the Negro p. 98 )