Page:Poems Angier.djvu/135

 White-souled son of Afric!
  We greet thee to-day;
 For we tread, as thy feet trod,
  A wearisome way;
 But joy gilds the hill-top,
  When climbing is past;
 Who welcome cross, spear, and thorn,
  Triumph at last.
    Courage, my soul!