 | The Black Man's Soul |  |
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THE BLACK MAN'S SOUL
By JAMES D. CORROTHERS
Dedicated to the boys of Downington School
A curious giant came, years ago,
Blind and black, down the Valley of Woe.
Untutored, and groping in primal night,
He fondled the harp, with a child's delight.
“Blind Tom,” the Musician! God's hint was he
Of a mystical music still to be.
I am sure, through that melodic surge and roll,
That music lives in the black man's soul.
Blind and black, down the Valley of Woe.
Untutored, and groping in primal night,
He fondled the harp, with a child's delight.
“Blind Tom,” the Musician! God's hint was he
Of a mystical music still to be.
I am sure, through that melodic surge and roll,
That music lives in the black man's soul.
A Singer there came, with a tender lyre,
And dawn-filled eyes of love and fire;
And I knew, as Dunbar swept the strings,
That he brought what long, long yearning brings:
Dream-Voice of a crooning race was he,
God's hint of a beauty yet to be!
For I know, by a glimpse of his lyric scroll,
That beauty dwells in the black man's soul.
And dawn-filled eyes of love and fire;
And I knew, as Dunbar swept the strings,
That he brought what long, long yearning brings:
Dream-Voice of a crooning race was he,
God's hint of a beauty yet to be!
For I know, by a glimpse of his lyric scroll,
That beauty dwells in the black man's soul.
An Orator came, and he thrilled the heart
Till the blood surged hot, with a sudden start,
As he rent the bleak rocks of a people's gloom,
And sounded Oppression's knell-filled doom.
Till the blood surged hot, with a sudden start,
As he rent the bleak rocks of a people's gloom,
And sounded Oppression's knell-filled doom.
| The Black Man's Soul | |