Maceo.

Maceo dead! a thrill of sorrow
    Through our hearts in sadness ran
When we felt in one sad hour
    That the world had lost a man.

He had clasped unto his bosom
    The sad fortunes of his land -
Held the cause for which he perished
    With a firm, unfaltering hand.


On his lips the name of freedom
    Fainted with his latest breath.
Cuba Libre was his watchword
    Passing through the gates of death.

With the light of God around us,
    Why this agony and strife?
With the cross of Christ before us,
    Why this fearful waste of life?

Must the pathway unto freedom
    Ever mark a crimson line,
And the eyes of wayward mortals
    Always close to light divine?

Must the hearts of fearless valor
    Fail 'mid crime and cruel wrong,
When the world has read of heroes
    Brave and earnest, true and strong?

Men to stay the floods of sorrow
    Sweeping round each war-crushed heart;
Men to say to strife and carnage -
    From our world henceforth depart.

God of peace and God of nations,
    Haste! oh, haste the glorious day
When the reign of our Redeemer
    O'er the world shall have its sway.

When the swords now blood encrusted,
    Spears that reap the battle field,
Shall be changed to higher service,
    Helping earth rich harvests yield.

Where the widow weeps in anguish,
    And the orphan bows his head,
Grant that peace and joy and gladness
    May like holy angels tread.

Pity, oh, our God the sorrow
    Of thy world from thee astray,
Lead us from the paths of madness
    Unto Christ the living way.

Year by year the world grows weary
    'Neath its weight of sin and strife,
Though the hands once pierced and bleeding
    Offer more abundant life.

May the choral song of angels
    Heard upon Judea's plain
Sound throughout the earth the tidings
    Of that old and sweet refrain.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper was an African American abolitionist, suffragist, poet, teacher, public speaker, and writer. Born free in Baltimore, Maryland, she was one of the first African American women to be published in the United States. She was active in social reform movements and used her poetry and prose to advocate for abolition and women's rights. Her best-known works include the poetry collection "Forest Leaves" and the novel "Iola Leroy."

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Vashti.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

The Lost Bells.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Our Hero.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

A Rallying Cry.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

English

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A Rallying Cry.

Oh, children of the tropics,
    Amid our pain and wrong
Have you no other mission
    Than music, dance, and song?

When through the weary ages
    Our dripping tears still fall,
Is this a time to dally
    With pleasure's silken thrall?

Go, muffle all your viols;
    As heroes learn to stand,
With faith in God's great justice
    Nerve every heart and hand.

Dream not of ease nor pleasure,
    Nor honor, wealth, nor fame,
Till from the dust you've lifted
    Our long-dishonored name;

And crowned that name with glory
    By deeds of holy worth,
To shine with light emblazoned,
    The noblest name on earth.

Count life a dismal failure,
    Unblessing and unblest,
That seeks 'mid ease inglorious
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Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Then And Now.

"Build me a nation," said the Lord.
The distant nations heard the word,
Build me a nation true and strong,
Bar out the old world's hate and wrong;
For men had traced with blood and tears
The trail of weary wasting years,
And torn and bleeding martyrs trod
Through fire and torture up to God.

While in the hollow of his hand
God hid the secret of our land,
Men warred against their fiercest foes,
And kingdoms fell and empires rose,
Till, weary of the old world strife,
Men sought for broader, freer life,
And plunged into the ocean's foam
To find another, better home.

And, like a vision fair and bright
The new world broke upon their sight.
Men grasped the prize, grew proud and strong,
And cursed the land with crime and wrong.
The Indi...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

An Appeal To My Countrywomen.

You can sigh o'er the sad-eyed Armenian
    Who weeps in her desolate home.
You can mourn o'er the exile of Russia
    From kindred and friends doomed to roam.

You can pity the men who have woven
    From passion and appetite chains
To coil with a terrible tension
    Around their heartstrings and brains.

You can sorrow o'er little children
    Disinherited from their birth,
The wee waifs and toddlers neglected,
    Robbed of sunshine, music and mirth.

For beasts you have gentle compassion;
    Your mercy and pity they share.
For the wretched, outcast and fallen
    You have tenderness, love and care.


But hark! from our Southland are floating
    Sobs of anguish, murmurs of pain,
And women heart-stricken are weeping

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Sunrise.

    September 26, 1881.


Weep for the martyr!    Strew his bier
With the last roses of the year;
Shadow the land with sables; knell
The harsh-tongued, melancholy bell;
Beat the dull muffled drum, and flaunt
The drooping banner; let the chant
Of the deep-throated organ sob -
One voice, one sorrow, one heart-throb,
From land to land, from sea to sea -
The huge world quires his elegy.
Tears, love, and honor he shall have,
Through ages keeping green his grave.
Too late approved, too early lost,
His story is the people's boast.
Tough-sinewed offspring of the soil,
Of peasant lineage, reared to toil,
In Europe he had been a thing
To the glebe tethered - here a king!
Crowned not for some transcendent gift,
Genius of power that may lift<...

Emma Lazarus

The Martyr Of Alabama.

        "Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large."
    - News Item.

He lifted up his pleading eyes,
    And scanned each cruel face,
Where cold and brutal cowardice
    Had left its evil trace.

It was when tender memories
    Round Beth'lem's manger lay,
And mothers told their little ones
    Of Jesu's natal day.

And of the Magi from the East
    Who came their gifts to bring,
And bow in rev'rence at the feet
    Of Salem's new-born King.

And how the herald angels sang
    The ...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The Worlds Convention Of The Friends Of Emancipation, Held In London In 1840

Yes, let them gather! Summon forth
The pledged philanthropy of Earth.
From every land, whose hills have heard
The bugle blast of Freedom waking;
Or shrieking of her symbol-bird
From out his cloudy eyrie breaking:
Where Justice hath one worshipper,
Or truth one altar built to her;
Where'er a human eye is weeping
O'er wrongs which Earth's sad children know;
Where'er a single heart is keeping
Its prayerful watch with human woe:
Thence let them come, and greet each other,
And know in each a friend and brother!
Yes, let them come! from each green vale
Where England's old baronial halls
Still bear upon their storied walls
The grim crusader's rusted mail,
Battered by Paynim spear and brand
On Malta's rock or Syria's sand.!
And mouldering pennon-st...

John Greenleaf Whittier