And he saw the stars through that old thatched roof,
While he dreamed of a mother long since dead;
A mother who toiled in the cotton field,
As she thought of her boy of the curly head.
While he dreamed of a mother long since dead;
A mother who toiled in the cotton field,
As she thought of her boy of the curly head.
A coarse sack covered his sturdy loins;
There were no child-toys for that barefoot boy;
But the singing birds by the cabin door
And the playful kittens were all his joy.
There were no child-toys for that barefoot boy;
But the singing birds by the cabin door
And the playful kittens were all his joy.
I touched the latch of that cabin door;
And I visioned the black man's blood and tears;
And up from the ground whereon I stood,
I caught the whisper: "A hundred years!"
And I visioned the black man's blood and tears;
And up from the ground whereon I stood,
I caught the whisper: "A hundred years!"
And I seemed to list to a bitter wail:
"O spare in mercy my little child!"
While the cruel lash was dripping blood,
And a mother writhed in her anguish wild!
"O spare in mercy my little child!"
While the cruel lash was dripping blood,
And a mother writhed in her anguish wild!
Then I saw that boy as a stalwart man,
Though born as a slave of Afric birth;
Harsh truths he spoke of his native land,
And mourned for the mother it crushed to earth.
Though born as a slave of Afric birth;
Harsh truths he spoke of his native land,
And mourned for the mother it crushed to earth.
I see him now as a fearless soul,
Who strove for a race held under a ban;
In his upraised hand he grasped the pen,
That struck the chains from his fellow-man!
Who strove for a race held under a ban;
In his upraised hand he grasped the pen,
That struck the chains from his fellow-man!
1923
A Midnight Reverie
O sordid man, why wreck the earth,
That bloomed so innocent at birth?
God made it good;
Change not its mood!
That bloomed so innocent at birth?
God made it good;
Change not its mood!
Why with unhallowed gore impair
The fields that should with flowers be fair?
Spurn not the love
Sent from above!
The fields that should with flowers be fair?
Spurn not the love
Sent from above!
Why with a murderer's dastard blade
Slay brothers that the Lord hath made?
Why thus defeat
What most is meet?
Slay brothers that the Lord hath made?
Why thus defeat
What most is meet?
This land of ours was meant for joy;
Yet still men slaughter and destroy.
I fear to sing
The reckoning.
Yet still men slaughter and destroy.
I fear to sing
The reckoning.
1920
We Saw Them March Away
Dedicated to the Soldiers Who Left for Camp one Friday
A crisp north breeze swept down the vale so fair,
O'er gather'd clans that sunlit April day,
In rhythmic step to drum and bugle's blare.
With buoyant heart we saw them march away!
O'er gather'd clans that sunlit April day,
In rhythmic step to drum and bugle's blare.
With buoyant heart we saw them march away!
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