 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
11
A TRAGEDY OF LONG BRIDGE
Across Long Bridge a woman with her child
Hurries—what backward glances quick and wild!
Hurries—what backward glances quick and wild!
Dark is her face with Nature's mask of woe;
She is a slave—yes, this was long ago.
She is a slave—yes, this was long ago.
Behind her lay Virginia in the sun;
Before her shone the dome of Washington.
Before her shone the dome of Washington.
Behind her Slavery burdened day and dream;
Before her Freedom held a high, faint gleam.
Before her Freedom held a high, faint gleam.
12
Behind her, like a bloodhound in her track,
Came her fierce master, strong to drag her back.
Came her fierce master, strong to drag her back.
Behind, before her—if she dreamed, or saw,
I know not—lo, the bond-securing Law!
I know not—lo, the bond-securing Law!
Panting she passes now the central tide,
Where the deep river shines on either side.
Where the deep river shines on either side.
Hark! clamorous men behind her follow fleet—
Faster she flies with wild and piteous feet;
Faster she flies with wild and piteous feet;
See!—who approach her from the Northern shore?
She pauses, turns; she looks behind, before!
She pauses, turns; she looks behind, before!
13
‘Stop her!’—the servants of the Law behind:—
All must obey, though Pity speak, ‘Be blind!’
All must obey, though Pity speak, ‘Be blind!’
She stands, all tremulous, helpless, looking round.
They close about her—she will soon be bound!
They close about her—she will soon be bound!
Hard arms are stretched—she springs with one shrill scream,
Her child close-prest, and sinks into the stream!
Her child close-prest, and sinks into the stream!
Baffled her master stands with raging breath—
Law cannot reach the Slave's Deliverer, Death.
Law cannot reach the Slave's Deliverer, Death.
... Yes, it was long ago; but still at night
Across Long Bridge is seen the piteous flight.
Across Long Bridge is seen the piteous flight.
Still, sometimes,—who has seen I do not know—
Is seen the dreadful chase of long ago.
Is seen the dreadful chase of long ago.
14
Fierce shouts are heard: lo! shapes of shadow run—
A dusky woman's, with her babe, is one!
A dusky woman's, with her babe, is one!
Hark! a last shriek—the shrill appeal to Death! ...
The water laps the pier with marshy breath.
The water laps the pier with marshy breath.
| The ghost's entry and other poems | |