(After reading John W. Vandercook's chronicle of sable glory)
THESE men were kings, albeit they were black,Christophe and Dessalines and L'Ouverture;Their majesty has made me turn my backUpon a plaint I once shaped to endure.These men were black, I say, but they were crownedAnd purple-clad, however brief their time.Stifle your agony; let grief be drowned;We know joy had a day once and a clime.
Dark gutter-snipe, black sprawler-in-the-mud,A thing men did a man may do again.What answer filters through your sluggish bloodTo these dark ghosts who knew so bright a reign?"Lo, I am dark, but comely," Sheba sings."And we were black," three shades reply, "but kings."
