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IV.
Men of the dark-hued race,
Whose freedom meant—to die—
Who lie, with pain-wrought face
Upturned to the peaceful sky,
Whose day of jubilee,
So many years o'erdue,
Came—but only to be
A day of death to you;
The flowers of whose love grew bright,
E'en in Oppression's track,
The mills of whose hearts ran right,
Though under a roof of black;
Crushed of a martyred race,
Jet-jewelry of your clan,
You showed with what good grace
A man may die for man.
To cringe and toil and bleed,
Your sires and you were born;
You grew in the ground of greed,
You throve in the frost of scorn!
But now, as your fireless ashes
Feed Liberty's fruitful tree,
The black race proudly flashes
The star-words “We are free!”
Men who died in sight
Of the long-sought promise-land,
Would that these flowers were bright
As your deeds are true and grand!
Whose freedom meant—to die—
Who lie, with pain-wrought face
Upturned to the peaceful sky,
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So many years o'erdue,
Came—but only to be
A day of death to you;
The flowers of whose love grew bright,
E'en in Oppression's track,
The mills of whose hearts ran right,
Though under a roof of black;
Crushed of a martyred race,
Jet-jewelry of your clan,
You showed with what good grace
A man may die for man.
To cringe and toil and bleed,
Your sires and you were born;
You grew in the ground of greed,
You throve in the frost of scorn!
But now, as your fireless ashes
Feed Liberty's fruitful tree,
The black race proudly flashes
The star-words “We are free!”
Men who died in sight
Of the long-sought promise-land,
Would that these flowers were bright
As your deeds are true and grand!
[RESPONSE.]
Oh! we had hearts, as brave and true
As those that lighter covering knew;
Love's flowers bloomed in us, pure and bright,
As if the vases were of white!
As those that lighter covering knew;
Love's flowers bloomed in us, pure and bright,
As if the vases were of white!
And we had homes, as sweet and rare
As if our household gods were fair;
But Death's was not the only dart
That came to force our joys apart!
As if our household gods were fair;
But Death's was not the only dart
That came to force our joys apart!
And we had souls, that saw the sky,
And heard the angels singing nigh;
But oft in gloom those souls would set,
As if God had not found them yet!
And heard the angels singing nigh;
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As if God had not found them yet!
Columbia brought us from afar—
She chained us to her triumph-car;
She drove us, fettered, through the street,
She lashed us, toiling at her feet!
She chained us to her triumph-car;
She drove us, fettered, through the street,
She lashed us, toiling at her feet!
We prayed to her, as prone we lay;
She turned her scornful face away!
She glanced at us, when sore afraid;
We rose, and hurried to her aid!
She turned her scornful face away!
She glanced at us, when sore afraid;
We rose, and hurried to her aid!
White faces sunk into the grave—
Black faces, too—and all were brave;
Their red blood thrilled Columbia's heart—
It could not tell the two apart.
Black faces, too—and all were brave;
Their red blood thrilled Columbia's heart—
It could not tell the two apart.
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