The Present Age.

Say not the age is hard and cold -
    I think it brave and grand;
When men of diverse sects and creeds
    Are clasping hand in hand.

The Parsee from his sacred fires
    Beside the Christian kneels;
And clearer light to Islam's eyes
    The word of Christ reveals.

The Brahmin from his distant home
    Brings thoughts of ancient lore;
The Bhuddist breaking bonds of caste
    Divides mankind no more.

The meek-eyed sons of far Cathay
    Are welcome round the board;
Not greed, nor malice drives away
    These children of our Lord.

And Judah from whose trusted hands
    Came oracles divine;
Now sits with those around whose hearts
    The light of God doth shine.


Japan unbars her long sealed gates
    From islands far away;
Her sons are lifting up their eyes
    To greet the coming day.

The Indian child from forests wild
    Has learned to read and pray;
The tomahawk and scalping knife
    From him have passed away.

From centuries of servile toil
    The Negro finds release,
And builds the fanes of prayer and praise
    Unto the God of Peace.

England and Russia face to face
    With Central Asia meet;
And on the far Pacific coast,
    Chinese and natives greet.

Crusaders once with sword and shield
    The Holy Land to save;
From Moslem hands did strive to clutch
    The dear Redeemer's grave.

A battle greater, grander far
    Is for the present age;
A crusade for the rights of man
    To brighten history's page.

Where labor faints and bows her head,
    And want consorts with crime;
Or men grown faithless sadly say
    That evil is the time.

There is the field, the vantage ground
    For every earnest heart;
To side with justice, truth and right
    And act a noble part.

To save from ignorance and vice
    The poorest, humblest child;
To make our age the fairest one
    On which the sun has smiled;

To plant the roots of coming years
    In mercy, love and truth;
And bid our weary, saddened earth
    Again renew her youth.

Oh! earnest hearts! toil on in hope,
    'Till darkness shrinks from light;
To fill the earth with peace and joy,
    Let youth and age unite:


To stay the floods of sin and shame
    That sweep from shore to shore;
And furl the banners stained with blood,
    'Till war shall be no more.

Blame not the age, nor think it full
    Of evil and unrest;
But say of every other age,
    "This one shall be the best."

The age to brighten every path
    By sin and sorrow trod;
For loving hearts to usher in
    The commonwealth of God.

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

An Appeal To My Countrywomen.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Let The Light Enter.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Maceo.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Save The Boys.

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
   ...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The World's Age

Who will say the world is dying?
    Who will say our prime is past?
Sparks from Heaven, within us lying,
    Flash, and will flash till the last.
Fools! who fancy Christ mistaken;
    Man a tool to buy and sell;
Earth a failure, God-forsaken,
    Anteroom of Hell.

Still the race of Hero-spirits
    Pass the lamp from hand to hand;
Age from age the Words inherits -
    'Wife, and Child, and Fatherland.'
Still the youthful hunter gathers
    Fiery joy from wold and wood;
He will dare as dared his fathers
    Give him cause as good.

While a slave bewails his fetters;
    While an orphan pleads in vain;
While an infant lisps his letters,
    Heir of all the age's gain;
While a lip grows ripe for kissing;
    While a moan from ...

Charles Kingsley

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...

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What We All Think

That age was older once than now,
In spite of locks untimely shed,
Or silvered on the youthful brow;
That babes make love and children wed.

That sunshine had a heavenly glow,
Which faded with those "good old days"
When winters came with deeper snow,
And autumns with a softer haze.

That - mother, sister, wife, or child -
The "best of women" each has known.
Were school-boys ever half so wild?
How young the grandpapas have grown!

That but for this our souls were free,
And but for that our lives were blest;
That in some season yet to be
Our cares will leave us time to rest.

Whene'er we groan with ache or pain, -
Some common ailment of the race, -
Though doctors think the matter plain, -
That ours is "a peculiar case."

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Two Ages

On a great cathedral window I have seen
A Summer sunset swoon and sink away,
Lost in the splendours of immortal art.
Angels and saints and all the heavenly hosts,
With smiles undimmed by half a thousand years,
From wall and niche have met my lifted gale.
Sculpture and carving and illumined page,
And the fair, lofty dreams of architects,
That speak of beauty to the centuries -
All these have fed me with divine repasts.
Yet in my mouth is left a bitter taste,
The taste of blood that stained that age of art.

Those glorious windows shine upon the black
And hideous structure of the guillotine;
Beside the haloed countenance of saints
There hangs the multiple and knotted lash.
The Christ of love, benign and beautiful,
Looks at the torture-rack, by hate con...

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Songs For The People.

Let me make the songs for the people,
    Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
    Wherever they are sung.

Not for the clashing of sabres,
    For carnage nor for strife;
But songs to thrill the hearts of men
    With more abundant life.

Let me make the songs for the weary,
    Amid life's fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
    And careworn brows forget.

Let me sing for little children,
    Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
    To float o'er life's highway.

I would sing for the poor and aged,
    When shadows dim their sight;
Of the bright and restful mansions,
    Where there shall be no night.

Our world, so worn and weary,
    Needs ...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper