BRONZE
TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL—LECTURER
A pioneer, she blazed a trail of lightThrough murky shadows, with a lithesome treadUnto those forums, where Hope's beams are shed:Straight through the mighty cordon of the night,Rapt with a vision, soul-born, clear and bright,Leaving the South of frigid wrong, she spedInto the North, where hearts glow warm instead,A people's tragedy to there recite.
Hope's liquid pipings lift their tender lay,Morning is waking, flushed with rosy gleam,Night with its shadow winds with yesterdayAdown the world-way as an inky stream,Seed time and harvest deftly interplay,And Life's fruition is its vital dream!
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