├── Pauline-Hopkins-Of-One-Blood-Fiction.txt ├── mary-weston-fordham-magnolia-leaves-1897.txt ├── Sutton-E-Griggs-Pointing-the-Way-1908-Fiction.txt ├── README.md ├── LICENSE ├── African American Literature Corpus Metadata-Amardeep Singh - Sheet1.csv ├── Olivia-Ward-Bush-Banks-Original-Poems-1899-Poetry.txt ├── georgia-douglas-johnson-bronze-1922-poetry.txt ├── marie-burgess-ave-maria-a-tale-1895.txt ├── Sarah-Lee-Brown-Fleming-Clouds-and-Sunshine-1920-Poetry.txt ├── thomas-h-b-walker-revelation-trial-and-exile-of-john-epics-1912-fiction.txt ├── Carrie-Williams-Clifford-Race-Rhymes-1911-Poetry.txt └── Pauline-E-Hopkins-Talma-Gordon-1900-fiction.txt /Pauline-Hopkins-Of-One-Blood-Fiction.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- https://raw.githubusercontent.com/amardeepmsingh/African-American-Literature-Text-Corpus-1853-1923/HEAD/Pauline-Hopkins-Of-One-Blood-Fiction.txt -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /mary-weston-fordham-magnolia-leaves-1897.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- https://raw.githubusercontent.com/amardeepmsingh/African-American-Literature-Text-Corpus-1853-1923/HEAD/mary-weston-fordham-magnolia-leaves-1897.txt -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /Sutton-E-Griggs-Pointing-the-Way-1908-Fiction.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- https://raw.githubusercontent.com/amardeepmsingh/African-American-Literature-Text-Corpus-1853-1923/HEAD/Sutton-E-Griggs-Pointing-the-Way-1908-Fiction.txt -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /README.md: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | Text Corpus of African American Fiction and Poetry, from 1853-1923 2 | 3 | Amardeep Singh, Lehigh University 4 | 5 | 6 | I’ve put together a small corpus of texts by Black literary authors in plain text format. The corpus is downloadable and researchers are free 7 | to modify it according to preference. 8 | 9 | The corpus at present consists of, at present, about 100 texts by African American writers, of which about 75 are works of fiction 10 | (about 4.1 million words) and 25 are books of poetry (about 400,000 words). It starts in 1853, the year of publication of William Wells Brown’s 11 | _Clotel_ and Frederick Douglass’ short fiction “The Heroic Slave,” and ends in 1923, with Jean Toomer’s _Cane_. Some of the files are admittedly 12 | still a little rough around the edges; cleaning and formatting will be an ongoing and long-term process. Still, I think the files are in good 13 | enough shape to start preliminarily exploring them using tools like AntConc or VoyantTools. 14 | 15 | Sources: 16 | 17 | In the Metadata file I’ve created to accompany the collection, I indicate the origin of each text. Many come from Project Gutenberg, HathiTrust, 18 | the American Verse Project at the University of Michigan, the Library of Congress, and the History of Black Writing Novel Corpus. A few texts were 19 | present on multiple repositories; I generally used the text of the source that seemed cleanest and most convenient. 20 | 21 | I believe everything I’ve included in the corpus is in the public domain. 22 | 23 | 24 | Why Do This / My Background: 25 | 26 | I started thinking about the relative paucity of collections focused on people of color online a few years ago (see my blog post on “Archive Gap” from 2015). 27 | I then initiated a couple of digital projects aimed to intervene in what I saw as the absence of Black writers in particular, “Claude McKay’s Early Poetry,” 28 | and “Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance.” That latter project in particular opened my eyes to the wealth of materials that have essentially fallen off the 29 | radar of literary history. A limited quantity of this overlooked material is sampled in anthologies like Maureen Honey’s Shadowed Dreams: Women’s Poetry of 30 | the Harlem Renaissance or Double-Take: A Revisionist Take on the Harlem Renaissance. But there remains a fairly substantial ‘great unread’ in the African 31 | Amerian literary tradition that could be brought to light, at least partly just by gathering materials that might have already been digitized in one form 32 | or another. 33 | 34 | Other corpora centered around Black writers do appear to exist, but they’re often restricted access. (For instance, The History of the Black Novel corpus 35 | has 53 works available to the public, but the larger corpus with about 450 works is restricted access for copyright reasons.) 36 | 37 | If corpora either don’t exist or aren’t readily available to scholars who don’t have access to password-protected university servers, that slows down 38 | research. At this point, Digital Humanities scholars have done impressive work analyzing large corpora of literature, but very few have applied 39 | computational methods to specifically African American texts. My hope is that this corpus might nudge more people to try. 40 | 41 | 42 | What’s included in the Corpus: 43 | 44 | In its current form, the corpus contains a mix of poetry and prose (for convenience, I’ve indicated whether a text is poetry or fiction in the title of 45 | each file). I’ve excluded slave narratives and other texts that are clearly not literary. (A large number of North American Slave Narratives are, in any 46 | case, collected here.) 47 | 48 | I included poetry alongside fiction in part because many of the topics historically-minded scholars might be interested in from these materials can be 49 | found in both formats. Many Black poets from this period wrote occasional poetry connected to historical events, including the Civil War and Emancipation, the Spanish-American War, World War I, the "Red Summer" of 1919, and so on. Admittedly, this mixing of formats might cause problems when studying these texts using certain software platforms (i.e., poetry and prose will be tokenized differently; they also need to be classified differently when doing word frequency types of queries, and sentence-length queries won't be useful). 50 | 51 | It might also be worth noting that during this time period there were many African-American women publishing poetry -- but not as many who published fiction. 52 | (The reasons for this are beyond the scope of a brief announcement.) Still, including poetry can also be seen as an intentional choice -- designed to 53 | include writing by women in the field of view. It's also an invitation to other scholars using these materials to encourage them to work with writing by women. 54 | 55 | Users of this corpus who disagree with my choices are welcome to modify the selection when they design their own queries. I would also welcome any and 56 | all feedback. 57 | 58 | Honoring Black Writers / Expanding the Canon: 59 | 60 | I’ve been inspired by the statement the Colored Conventions Project asks users to agree to when they download the CCP corpus, especially the first three 61 | principles: 62 | 63 | * I honor CCP’s commitment to a use of data that humanizes and acknowledges the Black people whose collective organizational histories are assembled 64 | here. Although the subjects of datasets are often reduced to abstract data points, I will contextualize and narrate the conditions of the people who 65 | appear as “data” and to name them when possible. 66 | 67 | * I will include the above language in my first citation of any data I pull/use from the CCP Corpus. 68 | 69 | * I will be sensitive to a standard use of language that again reduces 19th-century Black people to being objects. Words like “item” and “object,” standard 70 | in digital humanities and data collection, fall into this category. 71 | 72 | While I don’t ask users of this collection to sign an analogous statement, I encourage all users of these materials to adhere to the spirit of the request 73 | made by CCP of the users of their corpus. My goal in doing this type of work is to recognize and validate the work of African American writers as important 74 | contributors to world literature. One of the ways we can do that is to consider the work at scale, using computational tools like text analysis and stylistics. 75 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /LICENSE: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | Creative Commons Legal Code 2 | 3 | CC0 1.0 Universal 4 | 5 | CREATIVE COMMONS CORPORATION IS NOT A LAW FIRM AND DOES NOT PROVIDE 6 | LEGAL SERVICES. DISTRIBUTION OF THIS DOCUMENT DOES NOT CREATE AN 7 | ATTORNEY-CLIENT RELATIONSHIP. CREATIVE COMMONS PROVIDES THIS 8 | INFORMATION ON AN "AS-IS" BASIS. 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Affirmer understands and acknowledges that Creative Commons is not a 120 | party to this document and has no duty or obligation with respect to 121 | this CC0 or use of the Work. 122 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /African American Literature Corpus Metadata-Amardeep Singh - Sheet1.csv: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | "Author (last, first)",Title,Year Published,Genre,Publisher,Location of Publisher,Location signed by author,Keywords,Derived From,Status and Links, 2 | "Adams, Clayton",Ethiopia: the Land of Promise; A Book With a Purpose,1917,Fiction,Cosmopolitan Press,New York,,Black utopia; segregation; reconstruction,HathiTrust,https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/008407122, 3 | "Anderson, William and Walter H. Stowers",Appointed: An American Novel,1894,Fiction,Detroit Law Printing Co.,Detroit,,Interracial friendship; Northerners going south,HathiTrust,https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/005568825, 4 | "Andrews, W.T.","A Waif--A Prince; or, A Mother's Triumph",1895,Fiction,"Publishing House, Methodist Episcopal Church South","Nashville, Tennessee",,Religious allegory; Egypt (Hebrews as oppressed workers),History of Black Writing Corpus,Also see LOC: https://www.loc.gov/item/06002450/, 5 | "Ashby, William M.",Redder Blood,1915,Fiction,Cosmopolitan Press,New York,,Passing; Interracial desire,History of Black Writing Corpus,https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/004237253, 6 | "Bennett, John","Madam Margot, a Grotesque Legend of Old Charleston",1917,Fiction,Century Co.,New York,,Supernatural; Romance,History of Black Writing Corpus,https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/008584649?type%5B%5D=all&lookfor%5B%5D=madame%20margot&ft=ft, 7 | "Bibb, Eloise A.",Poems,1895,Poetry,Monthly Review Press,"Boston, Massachusetts",,Mentions Alice Dunbar-Nelson; Poem to Frederick Douglass; Mentions Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin; ,Digital Schomburg,Also see American Verse Project: https://quod.lib.umich.edu/a/amverse/BAD9461.0001.001?view=toc, 8 | "Blackson, Lorenzo D.","Rise and Progress of the Kingdoms of Light and Darkness: Or, The Reign of the Kings Alpha and Abedon""",1867,Fiction,"J. Nicholas, Printer","Philadelphia, Pennsylvania",,Christian; Allegory,History of Black Writing Corpus,Also see Archive.org: https://archive.org/details/riseprogressofki00blac, 9 | "Braithwaite, William Stanley",Lyrics of Life and Love,1904,Poetry,Herbert B. Turner co.,"Boston, Massachusetts",,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,, 10 | "Braithwaite, William Stanley","House of Falling Leaves, With Other Poems",1908,Poetry,John W. Luce and Co,"Boston, Massachusetts",,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,, 11 | "Brown, William Wells","Clotel; Or, the President's Daughter: A Narrative of Slave Life in the United States",1853,Fiction,Partridge and Oakey,"London, England",,Slavery; Passing; Interracial; Fugitive Slave Act; Thomas Jefferson,History of Black Writing Corpus,Also see Documenting the American South: https://docsouth.unc.edu/southlit/brown/brown.html, 12 | "Bruce, John Edward",Awakening of Hezekiah Jones,1916,Fiction,Phil H. Brown,"Hopkinsville, Kentucky",,Politics; Great Migration,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 13 | "Burgess, Marie Louise","Ave Maria, A Tale",1895,Fiction,,,,Christian,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 14 | "Bush-Banks, Olivia Ward",Original Poems,1899,Poetry,Louis A. Basinet,"Providence, Rhode Island","Providence, Rhode Island",,U-Penn,,http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/bush/poems/original-poems.html 15 | "Bush-Banks, Olivia Ward",Driftwood,1914,Poetry,Atlantic Printing Co,"Providence, Rhode Island",,Paul Laurence Dunbar,Digital Schomburg,,http://digilib.nypl.org/dynaweb/digs-p/wwm97246/@Generic__BookView 16 | "Chesnutt, Charles",The Conjure Woman,1899,Fiction,"Houghton, Mifflin, & Co.",New York,,Short Stories; Supernatural; Black southern folklore,Gutenberg,, 17 | "Chesnutt, Charles",The Colonel's Dream,1905,Fiction,"Harlem Moon, Broadway Books",New York,,Segregation; Hopes for reforming the South; Great Migration / returning home,Gutenberg,, 18 | "Chesnutt, Charles",The House Behind the Cedars,1900,Fiction,,,,"Passing; Interracial relationships; ""tragic mulatto""",Gutenberg,, 19 | "Chesnutt, Charles",The Marrow of Tradition,1901,Fiction,,,,"Wilmington, North Carolina race massacre; interracial relationships; segregation; lynching",Gutenberg,, 20 | "Chesnutt, Charles",The Wife of His Youth and Other Stories of the Color Line,1899,"Fiction, Nonfiction",,,,Short Stories,Gutenberg ,, 21 | "Clifford, Carrie Williams",Race Rhymes,1911,Poetry,,"Washington, DC",,,Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance,, 22 | "Clifford, Carrie Williams",The Widening Light,1922,Poetry,,,,,Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance,, 23 | "Coleman, Lucretia H.N.","Poor Ben, A Story of Real Life",1890,Fiction,,,,Christian; Picaresque,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 24 | "Dandridge, Raymond Garfield",Poems,1920,Poetry,,"Cincinnati, Ohio",,Toussaint L'Overture; World War I; Vernacular; Sonnets,U-Michigan American Verse Project,, 25 | "Detter, Thomas","Nellie Brown; Or, The Jealous Wife",1871,Fiction,,,,Marital melodrama; some passing (Jane Grey character),History of Black Writing Corpus,, 26 | "Douglass, Frederick",The Heroic Slave,1853,Fiction,,,,Fugitive Slave Act; Abolitionism,Documenting the American South,,https://docsouth.unc.edu/neh/douglass1853/douglass1853.html 27 | "Downing, Henry F.",The American Cavalryman: a Liberian Romance,1917,Fiction,,,,Liberia,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 28 | "Dreer, Herman","The Immediate Jewel of His Soul, A Romance",1919,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 29 | "Du Bois, W.E.B.",Quest of the Silver Fleece,1911,Fiction,A.C. McClurg & Co. ,,New York City,,Gutenberg,, 30 | "Dunbar-Nelson, Alice",Violets and Other Tales,1895,"Fiction, Poetry",Monthly Review,,,Short stories and poems,Gutenberg,, 31 | "Dunbar-Nelson, Alice",The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories,1899,Fiction,"Dodd, Mead, and Co.",New York,,,Gutenberg,, 32 | "Dunbar, Paul Laurence",The Heart of Happy Hollow,1904,Fiction,"Dodd, Mead, and Company",New York,,,Gutenberg,, 33 | "Dunbar, Paul Laurence",The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar,1922,Poetry,"Dodd, Mead and Company",New York,,Introduction by W.D. Howells,Gutenberg,, 34 | "Dunbar, Paul Laurence",The Strength of Gideon and Other Stories,1900,Fiction,,,,,Gutenberg,, 35 | "Dunbar, Paul Laurence",The Fanatics,1901,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 36 | "Dunbar, Paul Laurence",The Love of Landry,1900,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 37 | "Dunbar, Paul Laurence",The Uncalled,1898,Fiction,North River Bindery Co.,New York,,,Gutenberg,, 38 | "Durham, John Stephens","Diane, Princess of Haiti",1902,Fiction,,,,Supernatural; Caribbean; Haiti; Obeah (Obi),History of Black Writing Corpus,, 39 | "Ellis, George Washington",The Leopard's Claw,1917,Fiction,,,,Liberia,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 40 | "Fleming, Sarah Lee Brown",Hope's Highway,1918,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 41 | "Fleming, Sarah Lee Brown",Clouds and Sunshine,1920,Poetry,,,,,HathiTrust,Formatting; https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=nyp.33433107804308&view=1up&seq=7, 42 | "Fordham, Mary Weston",Magnolia Leaves,1897,Poetry,Tuskegee Institute,"Tuskegee, Alabama",,Booker T. Washington Introduction,Gutenberg,, 43 | "Fowler, Charles H.",Historical Romance of the American Negro,1902,Fiction,,"Baltimore, Maryland","Baltimore, Maryland",,Gutenberg,, 44 | "Fortune, Timothy Thomas",Dreams of Life: Miscellaneous Poems,1905,Poetry,Self-published,New York,,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,Remove page numbers, 45 | "Franklin, James Thomas","Crimson Alters; Or, A Minister's Sin",1895,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 46 | "Fullilove, Maggie",Who Was Responsible?,1919,Fiction,,,,Temperance; Racially Indeterminate,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 47 | "Fulton, David Bryant","Hanover, or the Persecution of the Lowly: A Story of the Wilmington Massacre",1899,Fiction,M.C.L. Hill,,,"Dedicated to Ida B. Wells Barnett; Wilmington, Delaware; Violence; Lynching",Gutenberg,, 48 | "Gilmore, F. Grant",The Problem: A Military Novel,1915,Fiction,Henry Connolly Co.,"Rochester, New York",,Race and the Military; Spanish-American War,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 49 | "Gilmore, James R.","Among the Pines, or South in Secession-Time",1862,Fiction,Carleton Publisher,New York,,Signed as Edmund Kirke,U-Mich.,Remove Page numbers; OCR cleanup,https://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/moa/BAA1654.0001.001?rgn=main;view=fulltext 50 | "Grant, John Wesley","Out of the Darkness: Or, Diabolism and Destiny",1909,Fiction,,,,Civil War; Interracial,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 51 | "Griggs, Sutton E.",Imperium in Imperio: A Study of the Negro Race Problem,1899,Fiction,The Editor Publishing Co.,"Cincinnati, Ohio","Berkeley, Virginia",,Gutenberg,, 52 | "Griggs, Sutton E.",Overshadowed,1901,Fiction,Orion Publishing Co.,"Nashville, Tennessee",,,Gutenberg,, 53 | "Griggs, Sutton E.",The Hindered Hand: or The Reign of the Repressionist,1905,Fiction,Orion Publishing Co.,"Nashville, Tennessee","Nashville, Tennessee",,Gutenberg,, 54 | "Griggs, Sutton E.",Unfettered,1902,Fiction,Orion Publishing Co.,"Nashville, Tennessee",,,Gutenberg,, 55 | "Griggs, Sutton E.",Pointing the Way,1908,Fiction,Orion Publishing Co.,"Nashville, Tennessee",,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 56 | "Harper, Frances, E.W.","Iola Leroy, Or Shadows Uplifted",1893,Fiction,,,Philadelphia,Preface by William Still; Racial Passing; Temperance; Christianity,Gutenberg,, 57 | "Harper, Frances, E.W.",Minnie's Sacrifice,1867,Fiction,,,,,Gutenberg,, 58 | "Harper, Frances, E.W.",Poems,1895,Poetry,,,,,Gutenberg,, 59 | "Harper, Frances, E.W.","Sowing and Reaping, A Temperance story",1876,Fiction,,,,Temperance; Racially Indeterminate,Gutenberg,Remove reference to Frances Smith Foster, 60 | "Harper, Frances, E.W.",Trial and Triumph,1889,Fiction,,,,,Gutenberg,, 61 | "Heard, Josephine",Morning Glories,1890,Poetry,,"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania","Philadelphia, Pennsylvania",Contains prefaces,Archive.org,Formatting,https://archive.org/details/morningglories00hear 62 | "Henderson, Elliott Blaine","Dis, Dat, an' Tutter",1908,Poetry,Self-published,"Springfield, Ohio",,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,Remove page numbers, 63 | "Henderson, Elliott Blaine",Soliloquy of Satan and Other Poems,1907,Poetry,Self-published,"Springfield, Ohio",,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,Remove page numbers, 64 | "Hopkins, Pauline",Contending Forces: A Romance Illustrative of Negro Life North and South,1900,Fiction,Colored Co-operative Publishing Co.,"Boston, Massachusetts",,,HathiTrust,,https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=uc1.$b307259&view=1up&seq=13 65 | "Hopkins, Pauline","Of One Blood, Or The Hidden Self",1902,Fiction,Colored American Magazine,,,Ethiopia,Archive.org,Remove page numbers; formatting, 66 | "Hopkins, Pauline",Hagar's Daughter: A Story of Southern Caste Prejudice,1901,Fiction,Colored American Magazine,,,,U-Penn,, 67 | "Hopkins, Pauline",Winona: A Tale of Negro Life in the South and Southwest,1902,Fiction,Colored American Magazine,,,,U-Penn,, 68 | "Hopkins, Pauline",Talma Gordon,1900,Fiction,Colored American Magazine,,,Short story; interracial,Colored American,,https://coloredamerican.org/?page_id=50 69 | "Johnson, Amelia E.",The Hazeley Family,1894,Fiction,American Baptist Publication Society,Philadelphia,,,Gutenberg,, 70 | "Johnson, Edward Augustus",Light Ahead for the Negro,1904,Fiction,Grafton Press,New York,,Utopia; Science Fiction,Gutenberg,, 71 | "Johnson, Fenton",A Little Dreaming,1913,Poetry,,,,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,Remove page numbers, 72 | "Johnson, Fenton",Visions of the Dusk,1915,Poetry,F.J. (Self-published),New York,,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,Remove page numbers, 73 | "Johnson, Georgia Douglas",Bronze,1922,Poetry,,,,Foreword by W.E.B. Du Bois,Women of the Early Harlem Renaissance,, 74 | "Johnson, Henry T.","Key to the Problem; or, Tale of a Sable City",1904,Fiction,,,,Utopia; Liberia,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 75 | "Johnson, Henry T.",The Murder Link,1866,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 76 | "Johnson, James Weldon",Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man,1912,Fiction,,,,Racial Passing; Music (ragtime),Gutenberg,, 77 | "Johnson, James Weldon",Book of American Negro Poetry,1922,"Poetry, Nonfiction","Harcourt, Brace, and Company, Inc.",New York,New York City,Anthology,Gutenberg,, 78 | "Johnson, James Weldon",Fifty Years and Other Poems,1917,Poetry,Cornhill Company,Boston,,,Gutenberg,, 79 | "Johnson, Maggie Pogue",Virginia Dreams,1910,Poetry,,,,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,,Also Digital Schomburg 80 | "Jones, J. McHenry",Hearts of Gold,1896,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 81 | "Jones, Yorke",The Climbers: A Story of Sunkissed Sweethearts,1912,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Novel Corpus,, 82 | "Jordan, Moses","The Meat Man: A Romance, of Life, of Love, of Labor",1923,Fiction,Judy Publishing Co.,"Chicago, Illinois",,,HathiTrust,https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/102480405, 83 | "McKay, Claude",Harlem Shadows,1922,Poetry,"Harcourt, Brace, and Company",New York,,Introduction by Max Eastman,"""Claude McKay's Early Poetry""",, 84 | Ada Isaacs Menken,Infelicia,1873,Poetry,J.B. Lippincott & Co.,"Philadelphia, Pennsylvania",,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,https://quod.lib.umich.edu/a/amverse/BAD8997.0001.001?rgn=main;view=fulltext, 85 | "Micheaux, Oscar",The Conquest: The Story of a Negro Pioneer,1913,"Fiction, Nonfiction",The Woodruff Press,"Lincoln, Nebraska",,Booker T. Washington Dedication,Gutenberg,, 86 | "Micheaux, Oscar",The Forged Note: A Romance of the Darker Races,1915,Fiction,Western Book Supply Company,"Lincoln, Nebraska",,,Gutenberg,, 87 | "Micheaux, Oscar",The Homesteader,1917,Fiction,Western Book Supply Company,"Sioux City, Iowa",,,Gutenberg,, 88 | "Nash, Theodore Edward Delafayette","Love & Vengeance, or Little Viola's Victory",1903,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 89 | "Ray, H. Cordelia",Poems,1910,Poetry,Grafton Press,New York,,,Digital Schomburg,"Remove page numbers and ""raster""",http://digilib.nypl.org/dynaweb/digs-p/wwm9719/@Generic__BookView 90 | "Shackelford, Otis M.",Lillian Simmons,1915,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 91 | "Spencer, Mary Etta",The Resentment,1921,Fiction,,,,,LOC,Remove page numbers; Formatting, 92 | "Steward, T.G.","A Charleston Love Story, Or Hortense Vanross",1899,Fiction,F. Tennyson Neely,New York,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,,https://web.archive.org/web/20110212010207/http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/etcbin/toccer-new2?id=SteHort.sgm&images=images/modeng&data=/texts/english/modeng/parsed&tag=public&part=all 93 | "Thompson, Priscilla Jane",Ethiope Lays,1900,Poetry,Self-published,"Rossmoyne, Ohio","Rossmoyne, Ohio",,U-Michigan American Verse Project,"Remove ""Page x"" ",https://quod.lib.umich.edu/a/amverse/BAD5735.0001.001?rgn=main;view=fulltext 94 | "Toomer, Jean",Cane,1923,"Fiction, Poetry",,,,,Gutenberg,, 95 | "Tracy, Robert Archer",Sword of Nemesis,1919,Fiction,,,,"Obeah, Obi, Caribbean, Supernatural",History of Black Writing Corpus,, 96 | "Walker, Thomas H. B.",J. Johnson; Or The Unknown Man: An Answer to Mr. Thom. Dixon's Sins of the Fathers,1915,Fiction,,,,Liberia,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 97 | "Walker, Thomas H. B.","Revelation, Trial and Exile of John Epics",1912,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 98 | "Waring, Robert L.",As We See It,1910,Fiction,,,,,History of Black Writing Corpus,, 99 | "Webb, Frank J.",The Garies and their Friends,1857,Fiction,,,,Preface by Harriet Beecher Stowe,Gutenberg,, 100 | "White, Charles Frederick","Plea of the Negro Soldier, and a Hundred Other Poems",1908,Poetry,Enterprise Printing Company,"Easthampton, Massachusetts",,,U-Michigan American Verse Project,Remove Page Numbers, 101 | "Wilson, Harriet","Our Nig, or, Sketeches from the Life of a Free Black",1859,Fiction,,,,,Gutenberg,, 102 | "Young, James L.","Helen Duval, A French Romance",1891,Fiction,Bancroft Company,San Francisco,,,LOC,Formatting; proofreading, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /Olivia-Ward-Bush-Banks-Original-Poems-1899-Poetry.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | ORIGINAL POEMS 2 | 3 | By 4 | 5 | Mrs. Olivia Bush 6 | 7 | Providence, RI: Press of Louis A. Basinet, 1899. 8 | 9 | This Little Booklet 10 | 11 | IS DEDICATED WITH 12 | 13 | PROFOUND REVERENCE AND RESPECT 14 | 15 | TO THE PEOPLE OF MY RACE, 16 | 17 | The Afro-Americans, 18 | 19 | BY 20 | 21 | MRS. OLIVIA BUSH, 22 | 23 | OF 24 | 25 | PROVIDENCE, R. I. 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | "Judge us not, O favored races, 30 | 31 | From the heights we have attained; 32 | 33 | Rather measure our progression 34 | 35 | By the depths from whence we came." 36 | 37 | Contents 38 | 39 | Morning on Shinnecock 40 | Treasured Moments 41 | At Harvest Time 42 | A Hero of San Juan [Hill] 43 | Crispus Attucks 44 | Honour's Appeal to Justice 45 | The Walk to Emmaus 46 | My Dream of the New Year 47 | Drifting 48 | Voices 49 | 50 | 51 | MORNING ON SHINNECOCK 52 | 53 | The rising sun had crowned the hills, 54 | And added beauty to the plain; 55 | O grand and wondrous spectacle! 56 | That only nature could explain. 57 | I stood within a leafy grove, 58 | And gazed around in blissful awe; 59 | The sky appeared one mass of blue, 60 | That seemed to spread from sea to shore. 61 | 62 | Far as the human eye could see, 63 | Were stretched the fields of waving corn. 64 | Soft on my ear the warbling birds 65 | Were herding the birth of morn. 66 | 67 | While here and there a cottage quaint 68 | Seemed to repose in quiet ease 69 | Amid the trees, whose leaflets waved 70 | And fluttered in the passing breeze. 71 | 72 | O morning hour! so dear thy joy, 73 | And how I longed for thee to last; 74 | But e'en thy fading into day 75 | Brought me an echo of the past. 76 | 77 | "Twas this,–how fair my life began; 78 | How pleasant was its hour of dawn; 79 | But, merging into sorrow's day, 80 | Then beauty faded with the morn. 81 | 82 | TREASURED MOMENTS 83 | 84 | For a time away from the tumult, 85 | Shut in from the care and the strife, 86 | Away from the gloom and the discord, 87 | That seemed to encircle my life. 88 | Shut in with the dear, earnest women– 89 | Women with hearts true and strong, 90 | Who dared to face a great evil, 91 | Who dared to contend against wrong. 92 | 93 | And the speaker's words were so cheering, 94 | As she talked to us of the time 95 | When the women crusaded together; 96 | How they battled against the wine. 97 | 98 | How they fought against deadly poison; 99 | How they struggled again and again, 100 | Till some homes were made better and brighter, 101 | Till some hearts were robbed of their pain. 102 | 103 | Then the speaker's tones grew more tender, 104 | As she spoke of a life so complete, 105 | That many lives caught the essence 106 | Of her life so full and so sweet; 107 | 108 | Who had just stepped over the threshold, 109 | And had entered the "Great Beyond," 110 | Life's labor so nobly completed, 111 | Heaven's blessing triumphantly won. 112 | 113 | Then sweet rose the voice of the singer, 114 | Singing of "Christ and the Cross," 115 | Till my soul cried loudly within me 116 | "I'll count everything but as dross." 117 | 118 | For His sake who bore our great burden, 119 | Who labored and suffered so long; 120 | And my heart grew glad for the singer, 121 | And I said: "O praise God for the song!" 122 | 123 | Ah! how I was strengthened, uplifted. 124 | How the depths of my soul were stirred; 125 | And the words, the song and the music 126 | Seemed the sweetest I ever had heard. 127 | 128 | I thought when that hour was ended, 129 | I shall cherish its memory so long; 130 | I shall think of the words so inspiring. 131 | I shall think of the singer, the song. 132 | 133 | As I wended my way again homeward, 134 | Possessed with a sweet, nameless peace, 135 | I thought of the great Life Eternal 136 | Where such moments as these never cease. 137 | 138 | Where there's fullness of joy forever, 139 | Where we meet an unbroken band, 140 | Shut in with the dear, blessed Master; 141 | Resting safe at the Father's right hand. 142 | 143 | AT HARVEST TIME 144 | 145 | A Sower walked among his fields 146 | When Spring's fair glory filled the earth; 147 | He scattered seed with eager hand, 148 | And sowing, thought upon their worth. 149 | "These seeds are precious ones," he said. 150 | "The finest flowers shall be mine; 151 | And I shall reap rich, golden grain, 152 | When these are ripe at harvest time." 153 | "I'll watch their growth with earnest care, 154 | And faithfully will till the soil; 155 | With willing hands each passing day 156 | From morn till setting sun I'll toil. 157 | And when the reaping time shall come, 158 | A bounteous Harvest shall be mine; 159 | I shall rejoice at duty done 160 | When these are ripe at Harvest time." 161 | 162 | Forth to his fields at Harvest time, 163 | The Sower bent his steps again; 164 | The Reapers' song sang merrily, 165 | Their sickles gleamed 'mid golden grain. 166 | With joyous heart the Sower cried 167 | "Behold, what precious sheaves are mine; 168 | And labor brings its own reward, 169 | For these are ripe at Harvest time." 170 | 171 | O Master! in thy fields so fair 172 | We, too, are sowing precious seed. 173 | And like the Sower we will toil 174 | Till golden grain fulfil thy need. 175 | Then shall we hear thy loving voice,– 176 | "Behold! what precious sheaves are mine. 177 | Let all be safely garnered in, 178 | For these are ripe at Harvest time." 179 | 180 | A HERO OF SAN JUAN [HILL] 181 | 182 | Among the sick and wounded ones, 183 | This stricken soldier boy lay, 184 | With glassy eye and shortened breath; 185 | His life seemed slipping fast away. 186 | My heart grew faint to see him thus, 187 | His dark brown face so full of pain, 188 | I wondered if the mother's eyes 189 | Were looking for her boy in vain. 190 | 191 | I bent to catch his feeble's words: 192 | "I am so ill and far from home. 193 | I feel so strange and lonely here; 194 | You seem a friend, I'm glad you've come. 195 | 196 | "I want to tell you how our boys 197 | Went charging on the enemy. 198 | 'Twas when we climbed up Juan's hill; 199 | And there we got the victory. 200 | 201 | "The Spaniards poured a heavy fire; 202 | We met it with a right good will. 203 | We saw the Seventy-first fall back, 204 | And then our boys went up the hill. 205 | 206 | "Yes, up the hill, and gained it, too; 207 | Not one brave boy was seen to lag. 208 | Old Glory o'er us floating free, 209 | We'd gladly died for that old flag." 210 | 211 | His dim eye brightened as he spoke; 212 | He seemed unconscious of his pain; 213 | In fancy on the battlefield 214 | He lived that victory o'er again. 215 | 216 | And I; I seemed to grasp it, too,– 217 | The stalwart form, the dusky face 218 | Of those black heroes, climbing up 219 | To win fair glory for their race. 220 | 221 | The Spaniards said that phalanx seemed 222 | To move like one black, solid wall; 223 | They flung defiance back at Death, 224 | And, answering to that thrilling call, 225 | 226 | They fought for Cuban liberty. 227 | On Juan's hill those bloody stains 228 | Mark how these heroes won the day 229 | And added honor to their names. 230 | 231 | March on, dark sons of Afric's race, 232 | Naught can be gained by standing still; 233 | Retreat not, 'quit yourselves like men 234 | And, like these heroes, climb the hill, 235 | 236 | Till pride and prejudice shall cease; 237 | Till racial barriers are unknown. 238 | Attain the heights where over all, 239 | Equality shall sit enthroned. 240 | 241 | CRISPUS ATTUCKS 242 | 243 | The Nation's heart beat wildly, 244 | And keenly felt the coming strife; 245 | The Country's call was sounding 246 | Brave men must offer life for life. 247 | So long Great Britain's power 248 | Had sternly held unyielding sway, 249 | The people yearned for freedom 250 | And cried, "Our blood must pave the way." 251 | 252 | So, on the streets of Boston, 253 | Where madly rushed the British foe; 254 | Men questioned with each other, 255 | "Who shall be first to strike the blow?" 256 | 257 | Not that they shrank from duty, 258 | Ah, no! their lives they gladly gave; 259 | But War, with all its terrors, 260 | Brings fear to hearts both true and brave. 261 | 262 | But one, with fearless courage, 263 | Inspired them to activity, 264 | And boldly led them forward 265 | With cheering shout, "For Liberty?" 266 | 267 | In face of death and danger, 268 | He met the foe, this soldier true, 269 | Till, charging full upon them, 270 | Their bayonets had pierced him through. 271 | 272 | He fell, and o'er the pavement 273 | A Negro's blood was flowing free. 274 | His sable hand was foremost 275 | To strike the blow for liberty. 276 | 277 | It was a deed most valiant, 278 | And mighty was the work begun, 279 | For War then waging fiercely, 280 | Ceased not till victory was won. 281 | 282 | Naught but a slave was Attucks, 283 | And yet how grand a hero, too. 284 | He gave a life for freedom, 285 | What more could royal sovereign do? 286 | 287 | Well may we eulogize him! 288 | And rear a monument of fame. 289 | We hold his memory sacred; 290 | We honor and revere his name. 291 | 292 | A century has vanished, 293 | Yet, through the years still rolling on 294 | We emulate his bravery 295 | And praise the deed he nobly done. 296 | 297 | Then write in glowing letters 298 | These thrilling words in history,– 299 | That Attucks was a hero, 300 | That Attucks died for Liberty. 301 | 302 | HONOR'S APPEAL TO JUSTICE 303 | 304 | Unjust, untrue, is he who dares 305 | Upon our honor to intrude, 306 | And claims that with the sin of crime 307 | The Negro's nature is imbued. 308 | Shall we keep silent? No; thrice No! 309 | We stand defenseless in our cause. 310 | If voices fail to cry aloud 311 | And plead a right to justice's laws. 312 | 313 | For who shall vindicate this wrong? 314 | Who shall defend our perjured race? 315 | We must speak out with one accord, 316 | If we the stigma would erase. 317 | 318 | The cruel hand that raised the lash 319 | To strike a wronged and helpless race, 320 | Is stained with sin of deepest dye, 321 | And shows of brutal crime more trace. 322 | 323 | I draw a picture of the slave 324 | Who meekly bowed 'neath stinging blows 325 | And raised no hand in swift defense, 326 | To kill, to threaten, or oppose. 327 | 328 | I hear from out his cabin rise 329 | Sweet songs of praises unto God. 330 | E'en with his painful wounds he sings, 331 | And utters no resentful word. 332 | 333 | I see him in the darker days 334 | When blood like crimson rivers ran, 335 | And Southern slavers left their homes 336 | In answer to stern war's demands. 337 | 338 | They left their lands, their kindred ties, 339 | Entrusted to the Slave alone. 340 | Who faithfully and nobly strove 341 | To guard the sacred rights of home. 342 | 343 | Yes; even lives were in his hands. 344 | Yet he, though held in slavery, 345 | Upon his honor threw no shame, 346 | Or stain of criminality. 347 | 348 | Today, on equal ground he stands 349 | With loyal, true, and noble men. 350 | He loves his country, and remains 351 | A law abiding citizen. 352 | 353 | He shares no part in daring plot, 354 | He scorns to hint of anarchy; 355 | He only asks his native right; 356 | Can this be criminality? 357 | 358 | Then, Justice! we implore thy aid. 359 | Thine arm can well supply our need; 360 | Protect our name, assist our cause, 361 | For Right and Right alone we plead. 362 | 363 | THE WALK TO EMMAUS 364 | 365 | 'Twas eventide. Along the dusty road 366 | Two weary travelers passed with aching feet 367 | And heavy hearts, while each in saddened tones 368 | The story of their Lord would oft repeat. 369 | We yearn for Him, and is it not three days 370 | Since first He lay within the silent tomb? 371 | Yet when we hastened to His resting place, 372 | Our Lord had gone; His grave was wrapt in gloom. 373 | 374 | Communing thus, these weary travelers went. 375 | Their hearts oppressed by mingled doubt and fear; 376 | When lo! along the road to Emmaus 377 | Their Lord, the risen Christ Himself, drew near. 378 | 379 | With gentle voice He asked of them their grief,– 380 | "Why are ye sad? and O, what troubleth thee?" 381 | They knew not that the loving Master spoke, 382 | Their eyes were holden, that they could not see. 383 | 384 | And one replied: "We know not where He is,– 385 | Our Lord, who promised Israel to redeem. 386 | Art thou a stranger in Jerusalem? 387 | And knowest not what marvelous things have been?" 388 | 389 | Then Jesus spoke. "Why are ye show of heart? 390 | Did not the prophets in the days of old 391 | Proclaim that Christ must die and live again, 392 | That ye His wondrous power might behold?" 393 | 394 | Their hearts were touched; the Master's thrilling words 395 | Dispelled their fears and cleared their darkened sight. 396 | And while the Holy Scriptures He declared, 397 | There came sweet peace and filled their souls with light. 398 | 399 | The Master ceased, and now the journey o'er 400 | He still would further go along the road. 401 | But they constrained Him, saying: "Tarry here; 402 | Abide with us and enter our abode." 403 | 404 | He deigned to pass within that humble home, 405 | His holy presence filled the place with light; 406 | He sat at meat and brake and blessed the bread, 407 | And ere they know it vanished from their sight. 408 | 409 | They said, with gladdened hearts, "It is our Lord, 410 | Our risen Christ for whom we long have yearned; 411 | We knew Him not when walking by the way, 412 | And yet our hearts within us sweetly burned. 413 | 414 | O Christian! walking o'er Life's rugged road, 415 | Thou too, like His disciples, oft shall say,– 416 | "Did not our hearts within us sweetly burn 417 | When Jesus talked with us beside the way?" 418 | 419 | MY DREAM OF THE NEW YEAR 420 | 421 | Through the waning hours of moments 422 | Of the slowly dying year, 423 | I sat watching, watching, waiting 424 | For the New Dawn to appear. 425 | While the Old Year's strife and struggle, 426 | With its changing, varied scene, 427 | Passed before me till I wearied, 428 | Fell asleep–asleep to dream 429 | That I saw a lofty Castle, 430 | Vast in size and wondrous fair; 431 | And I stood outside its portal 432 | Knocking for an entrance there. 433 | From its towers the bells were ringing 434 | In a strange, discordant tone, 435 | Wailing out their mournful measures 436 | Like a mortal's dying moan. 437 | 438 | Still I waited, knocked and waited, 439 | For I longed to enter there; 440 | Longed to know the name and secret 441 | Of this Castle, vast and fair. 442 | When a voice within cried loudly, 443 | "Thou shalt have that wish of thine. 444 | Thou art knocking at Life's Castle, 445 | And the keeper's name is Time. 446 | 447 | "And the bells you hear above you 448 | Ring out all the dying years; 449 | Ring out Man's past griefs and sorrows, 450 | Ring out blasted hopes and fears. 451 | With the coming of the New Year 452 | They will cease that refrain. 453 | You will hear them chiming sweetly, 454 | Ringing out a joyous strain. 455 | 456 | "If you watch and wait with patience, 457 | You shall be admitted here; 458 | For the New Year swift approaches, 459 | Its bright dawning draweth near." 460 | So I waited, watched and waited 461 | Till the Castle's door swung wide; 462 | And the keeper bade me enter, 463 | Saying, "Mortal here abide." 464 | 465 | 'Twas indeed a wondrous Castle, 466 | With its arches gleaming bright, 467 | E'en the keeper's face was beaming 468 | With a rare and radiant light. 469 | Through its spacious halls he led me 470 | Over floors of spotless white, 471 | Till it seemed that mortal vision 472 | Ne'er beheld a fairer sight. 473 | 474 | On its walls in blazoned letters 475 | I could trace each written word, 476 | Words that could not fail to strengthen 477 | When by mortals they were heard. 478 | And the keeper, softly speaking, 479 | Read them, one by one, to me,– 480 | "Resolution, faith, and duty, 481 | Hope and opportunity." 482 | 483 | Then I asked him, "Can you tell me 484 | Why these words are written here?" 485 | He replied: "These are the watchwords 486 | That shall guide thee through the year. 487 | Just resolve to do thy duty; 488 | Thine the opportunity. 489 | Hope shall aid thee in thy purpose, 490 | Do it well and faithfully." 491 | 492 | Then the bells pealed out so loudly, 493 | Ringing out their joyous strain, 494 | That I started from my slumber, 495 | Found myself alone again. 496 | Saw no more Life's wondrous Castle, 497 | Vanished now the keeper Time; 498 | Heard no more the joyful pealing 499 | Of the bells' sweet, tuneful chime. 500 | 501 | Day had dawned, the night was over, 502 | Life's Old year was safely past. 503 | Now had dawned a brighter morning, 504 | Life's New Year had come at last. 505 | But the Dream had filled its mission– 506 | Made my path of duty clear. 507 | Hope and Faith were now the watchwords 508 | Brightening up my glad New Year. 509 | 510 | DRIFTING 511 | 512 | And now the sun in tinted splendor sank, 513 | The west was all aglow with crimson light; 514 | The bay seemed like a sheet of burnished gold, 515 | Its waters glistened with such radiance bright. 516 | At anchor lay the yachts with snow-white sails, 517 | Outlined against glowing, rose-hued sky. 518 | No ripple stirred the waters' calm repose 519 | Save when a tiny craft sped lightly by. 520 | 521 | Our boat was drifting slowly, gently round, 522 | To rest secure till evening shadows fell; 523 | No sound disturbed the stillness of the air, 524 | Save the soft chiming of the vesper bell. 525 | 526 | Yes, drifting, drifting; and I thought that life, 527 | When nearing death, is like the sunset sky. 528 | And death is but the slow, sure drifting in 529 | To rest far more securely, by and by. 530 | 531 | Then let me drift along the Bay of Time, 532 | Till my last sun shall set in glowing light; 533 | Let me cast anchor where no shadows fall, 534 | Forever moored within Heaven's harbor bright. 535 | 536 | Newport. June 12, 1898. 537 | 538 | VOICES 539 | 540 | I stand upon the haunted plain 541 | Of vanished day and year, 542 | And ever o'er its gloomy waste 543 | Some strange, sad voice I hear. 544 | Some voice from out the shadowed Past; 545 | And one I call Regret, 546 | And one I know is Misspent Hours, 547 | Whose memory lingers yet. 548 | Then Failure speaks in bitter tones, 549 | And Grief, with all its woes; 550 | Remorse, whose deep and cruel stings 551 | My painful thoughts disclose. 552 | Thus do these voices speak to me, 553 | And flit like shadows past; 554 | My spirit falters in despair, 555 | And tears flow thick and fast. 556 | 557 | But when, within the wide domain 558 | Of Future Day and Year 559 | I stand, and o'er its sunlit Plain 560 | A sweeter Voice I hear, 561 | Which bids me leave the darkened Past 562 | And crush its memory,– 563 | I'll listen gladly, and obey 564 | The Voice of Opportunity. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /georgia-douglas-johnson-bronze-1922-poetry.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | Georgia Douglas Johnson, "Bronze." 2 | Poems. 1922. 3 | 4 | Foreword by W.E.B. Du BOIS 5 | 6 | Those who know what it means to be a colored woman in 1922 — and know it not so much in fact as in feeling, apprehension, unrest and delicate yet stern thought — must read Georgia Douglas Johnson’s Bronze. Much of it will not touch this reader and that, and some of it will mystify and puzzle them as a sort of reiteration and over-emphasis. But none can fail to be caught here and there by a word — a phrase — a period that tells a life history or even paints the history of a generation. Can you not see that marching of the mantled with 7 | 8 | "Voices strange to ecstasy?" 9 | Have you ever looked on the “twilight faces” of their throngs, or seen the black mother with her son when 10 | 11 | "Her heart is sandaling his feet?" 12 | Or can you not conceive that infinite sorrow of a dark child wandering the world: 13 | 14 | "Seeking the breast of an unknown face!" 15 | I hope Mrs. Johnson will have wide reading. Her word is simple, sometimes trite, but it is singularly sincere and true, and as a revelation of the soul struggle of the women of a race it is invaluable. 16 | 17 | W. E. B. Du BOIS. New York, August 4, 1922. 18 | 19 | 20 | Sonnet to the Mantled 21 | 22 | And they shall rise and cast their mantles by, 23 | Erect and strong and visioned, in the day 24 | That rings the knell of Curfew o'er the sway 25 | Of prejudice — who reels with mortal cry 26 | To lift no more her leprous, blinded eye. 27 | Reft of the fetters, far more cursed than they 28 | Which held dominion o'er human clay. 29 | The spirit soars aloft where rainbows lie. 30 | 31 | Like joyful exiles swift returning home — 32 | The rhythmic chanson of their eager feet. 33 | While voices strange to ecstasy, long dumb. 34 | Break forth in major rhapsodies, full sweet. 35 | Into the very star-shine, lo! they come 36 | Wearing the bays of victory complete! 37 | 38 | SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY 39 | 40 | Their gaze uplifting from shoals of despair 41 | Like phantoms groping enswathed from the light 42 | Up from miasmic depths, children of night, 43 | Surge to the piping of Hope's dulcet lay, 44 | Souled like the lily, whose splendors declare 45 | God's mazèd paradox — purged of all blight. 46 | Out from the quagmire, unsullied and fair. 47 | 48 | Life holds her arms o'er the festering way, 49 | Smiles, as their faith-sandalled rushes prevail, 50 | Slowly the sun rides the marge of the day. 51 | Wine to the lips sorely anguished and pale; 52 | On, ever on, do the serried ranks sway 53 | Charging the ultimate, rending the veil. 54 | 55 | 56 | Brotherhood 57 | 58 | Come, brothers all! 59 | Shall we not wend 60 | The blind-way of our prison-world 61 | By sympathy entwined? 62 | Shall we not make 63 | The bleak way for each other's sake 64 | Less rugged and unkind? 65 | O let each throbbing heart repeat 66 | The faint note of another's beat 67 | To lift a chanson for the feet 68 | That stumble down life's checkered street. 69 | 70 | 71 | Let Me Not Lose My Dream 72 | 73 | Let me not lose my dream, e’en though I scan the veil 74 | with eyes unseeing through their glaze of tears, 75 | Let me not falter, though the rungs of fortune perish 76 | as I fare above the tumult, praying purer air, 77 | Let me not lose the vision, gird me. Powers that toss 78 | the worlds, I pray! 79 | Hold me, and guard, lest anguish tear my dreams 80 | away! 81 | 82 | 83 | Let Me Not Hate 84 | 85 | Let me not hate, although the bruising world decries my peace, 86 | Gives me no quarter, hounds me while I sleep; 87 | Would snuff the candles of my soul and sear my inmost dreamings. 88 | Let me not hate, though girt by vipers, green and hissing through the dark; 89 | I fain must love. God help me keep the altar-gleams that flicker wearily, anon, 90 | On down the world’s grim night! 91 | 92 | 93 | 94 | Calling Dreams 95 | 96 | The right to make my dreams come true 97 | I ask, nay, I demand of life, 98 | Nor shall fate’s deadly contraband 99 | Impede my steps, nor countermand. 100 | 101 | Too long my heart against the ground 102 | Has beat the dusty years around, 103 | And now, at length, I rise, I wake! 104 | And stride into the morning-break ! 105 | 106 | 107 | Desire 108 | 109 | Ope! ye everlasting doors, unto my soul’s demand, 110 | I would go forward, fare beyond these dusty boulevards, 111 | Faint lights and fair allure me all insistently 112 | And I must stand within the halls resplendent, of my dreams. 113 | 114 | 115 | 116 | Sorrow Singers 117 | 118 | Hear their viol-voices ringing 119 | Down the corridor of years, 120 | As they lift their twilight faces 121 | Through a mist of falling tears! 122 | 123 | 124 | The Cross 125 | 126 | All day the world’s mad mocking strife, 127 | The venomed prick of probing knife, 128 | The baleful, subtle leer of scorn 129 | That rims the world from morn to morn, 130 | While reptile-visions writhe and creep 131 | Into the very arms of sleep 132 | To quench the fitful burnished gleams: 133 | A crucifixion in my dreams! 134 | 135 | 136 | 137 | Prejudice 138 | 139 | These fell miasmic rings of mist, with ghoulish menace bound, 140 | Like noose-horizons tightening my little world around, 141 | They still the soaring will to wing, to dance, to speed away. 142 | And fling the soul insurgent back into its shell of clay: 143 | 144 | Beneath incrusted silences, a seething Etna lies. 145 | The fire of whose furnaces may sleep — but never dies! 146 | 147 | 148 | Laocoon 149 | 150 | This spirit-choking atmosphere 151 | With deadly serpent-coil 152 | Entwines my soaring-upwardness 153 | And chains me to the soil, 154 | Where’er I seek with eager stride 155 | To gain yon gleaming height, 156 | These noisesome fetters coil aloft 157 | And snare my buoyant flight. 158 | 159 | O, why these aspirations bold, 160 | These rigours of desire. 161 | That surge within so ceaselessly 162 | Like living tongues of fire? 163 | And why these glowing forms of hope 164 | That scintillate and shine, 165 | If naught of all that burnished dream 166 | Can evermore be mine? 167 | It cannot be, fate does not mock, 168 | And man’s untoward decree 169 | Shall not forever thus confine 170 | My life’s entirety, 171 | My every fibre fierce rebels 172 | Against this servile role, 173 | And all my being broods to break 174 | This death-grip from my soul! 175 | 176 | 177 | Moods 178 | 179 | My heart is pregnant with a great despair 180 | With much beholding of my people’s care, 181 | ‘Mid blinded prejudice and nurtured wrong, 182 | Exhaling wantonly the days along: 183 | I mark Faith’s fragile craft of cheering light 184 | Tossing imperiled on the sea of night, 185 | And then, enanguished, comes my heart’s low cry, 186 | “God, God! I crave to learn the reason why!” 187 | Again, in spirit loftily I soar 188 | With winged vision through earth’s outer door. 189 | In such an hour, it is mine to see, 190 | In frowning fortune smiling destiny! 191 | 192 | 193 | Hegira 194 | 195 | Oh, black man, why do you northward roam, and leave 196 | all the farm lands bare? 197 | Is your house not warm, tightly thatched from storm, 198 | and a larder replete your share? 199 | And have you not schools, fit with books and tools the 200 | steps of your young to guide? 201 | Then what do you seek, in the north cold and bleak, 202 | ‘mid the whirl of its teeming tide? 203 | 204 | I have toiled in your cornfields, and parched in the sun, 205 | I have bowed ‘neath your load of care, 206 | I have patiently garnered your bright golden grain, in 207 | season of storm and fair. 208 | With a smile I have answered your glowering gloom, 209 | while my wounded heart quivering bled. 210 | Trailing mute in your wake, as your rosy dawn breaks, 211 | while I curtain the mound of my dead. 212 | 213 | Though my children are taught in the schools you have 214 | wrought, they are blind to the sheen of the sky, 215 | For the brand of your hand, casts a pall o’er the land, 216 | that enshadows the gleam of the eye. 217 | My sons, deftly sapped of the brawn-hood of man, self- 218 | rejected and impotent stand, 219 | 220 | My daughters, unhaloed, unhonored, undone, feed the 221 | lust of a dominant land. 222 | 223 | I would not remember, yet could not forget, how the 224 | hearts beating true to your own. 225 | You’ve tortured, and wounded, and filtered their blood 226 | ‘till a budding Hegira has blown. 227 | 228 | Unstrange is the pathway to Calvary’s hill, which I 229 | wend in my dumb agony, 230 | Up its perilous height, in the pale morning light, to 231 | dissever my own from the tree. 232 | 233 | And so I’m away, where the sky-line of day sets the 234 | arch of its rainbow afar, 235 | To the land of the north, where the symbol of worth 236 | sets the broad gates of combat ajar! 237 | 238 | 239 | The Passing of the Ex-Slave 240 | 241 | Swift melting into yesterday, 242 | The tortured hordes of ebon-clay; 243 | No more is heard the plaintive strain, 244 | The rhythmic chaunting of their pain. 245 | 246 | Their mounded bodies dimly rise 247 | To fill the gulf of sacrifice, 248 | And o’er their silent hearts below 249 | The mantled millions softly go. 250 | 251 | Some few remaining still abide. 252 | Gnarled sentinels of time and tide. 253 | Now mellowed by a chastened glow 254 | Which lighter hearts will never know. 255 | 256 | Winding into the silent way, 257 | Spent with the travail of the day, 258 | So royal in their humble might 259 | These uncrowned Pilgrims of the Night! 260 | 261 | 262 | The Octoroon 263 | 264 | One drop of midnight in the dawn of life’s pulsating 265 | stream 266 | Marks her an alien from her kind, a shade amid its 267 | gleam; 268 | Forevermore her step she bends insular, strange, 269 | apart — 270 | And none can read the riddle of her wildly warring 271 | heart. 272 | 273 | The stormy current of her blood beats like a mighty sea 274 | Against the man-wrought iron bars of her captivity. 275 | For refuge, succor, peace and rest, she seeks that 276 | humble fold 277 | Whose every breath is kindliness, whose hearts are 278 | purest gold. 279 | 280 | 281 | Aliens 282 | 283 | (To You — Everywhere! Dedicated) 284 | 285 | They seem to smile as others smile, the masquerader’s 286 | art 287 | Conceals them, while, in verity, they’re eating out their 288 | heart. 289 | Betwixt the two contending stones of crass humanity 290 | They lie, the fretted fabric of a dual dynasty. 291 | 292 | A single drop, a sable strain debars them from their 293 | own,-— 294 | The others — fold them furtively, but God! they are 295 | alone. 296 | Blown by the fickle winds of fate far from the traveled 297 | mart 298 | To die, when they have quite consumed the morsel of 299 | their heart. 300 | When man shall lift his lowered eyes to meet the moon 301 | of truth, 302 | Shall break the shallow shell of pride and wax in ways 303 | of ruth, 304 | He cannot hate, for love shall reign untrammelled in 305 | the soul, 306 | While peace shall spread a rainbow o’er the earth from 307 | pole to pole. 308 | 309 | 310 | Concord 311 | 312 | Nor shall I in sorrow repine, 313 | But offer a paean of praise 314 | To the infinite God of my days 315 | Who marshals the pivoting spheres 316 | Through the intricate maze of the years, 317 | Who loosens the luminous flood 318 | That lightens the purlieus of men, 319 | I shall not in sorrow repine 320 | To break the eternal Amen! 321 | 322 | 323 | The Mother 324 | 325 | The mother soothes her mantled child 326 | With incantation sad and wild; 327 | A deep compassion brims her eye 328 | And stills upon her lips, the sigh. 329 | 330 | Her thoughts are leaping down the years, 331 | O’er branding bars, through seething tears, 332 | Her heart is sandaling his feet 333 | Adown the world’s corroding street. 334 | 335 | Then, with a start she dons a smile 336 | His tender yearnings to beguile. 337 | And only God will ever know 338 | The wordless measure of her woe. 339 | 340 | 341 | Maternity 342 | 343 | Proud? 344 | Perhaps— and yet 345 | I cannot say with surety 346 | That I am happy thus to be 347 | Responsible for this young life’s embarking. 348 | Is he not thrall to prevalent conditions? 349 | Does not the day loom dark apace 350 | To weave its cordon of disgrace 351 | Around his lifted throat? 352 | Is not this mezzotint enough and surfeit 353 | For such prescience? 354 | Ah, did I dare 355 | Recall the pulsing life I gave, 356 | And fold him in the kindly grave ! 357 | 358 | Proud? 359 | Perhaps — could I but ever so faintly scan 360 | The broad horizon of a man 361 | Swept fair for his dominion — 362 | So hesitant and half-afraid 363 | I view this babe of sorrow! 364 | 365 | 366 | Black Woman 367 | 368 | Don’t knock at my door, little child, 369 | I cannot let you in. 370 | You know not what a world this is 371 | Of cruelty and sin. 372 | Wait in the still eternity 373 | Until I come to you, 374 | The world is cruel, cruel, child, 375 | I cannot let you in! 376 | 377 | Don’t knock at my heart, little one, 378 | I cannot bear the pain 379 | Of turning deaf-ear to your call 380 | Time and time again! 381 | You do not know the monster men 382 | Inhabiting the earth. 383 | Be still, be still, my precious child, 384 | I must not give you birth! 385 | 386 | 387 | "One of the Least of These, My Little One" 388 | 389 | The infant eyes look out amazed upon the frowning earth, 390 | A stranger, in a land now strange, child of the mantled-birth; 391 | Waxing, he wonders more and more; the scowling grows apace; 392 | A world, behind its barring doors, reviles his ebon face: 393 | Yet from this maelstrom issues forth a God-like entity. 394 | That loves a world all loveless, and smiles on Calvary! 395 | 396 | 397 | Shall I Say, "My Son, You're Branded?" 398 | 399 | Shall I say, “My son, you’re branded in this country’s pageantry, 400 | By strange subtleties you’re tethered, and no forum sets you free?” 401 | Shall I mark the young lights fading through your soul-enchannelled eye, 402 | As the dusky pall of shadows screen the highway of your sky? 403 | Or shall I, with love prophetic, bid you dauntlessly arise. 404 | Spurn the handicap that clogs you, taking what the world denies, 405 | Bid you storm the sullen fortress wrought by prejudice and wrong 406 | With a faith that shall not falter, in your heart and on your tongue! 407 | 408 | 409 | My Boy 410 | 411 | I hear you singing happily, 412 | My boy of tarnished mien, 413 | Lifting your limpid, trustful gaze 414 | In innocence serene. 415 | 416 | A thousand javelins of pain 417 | Assault my heaving breast 418 | When I behold the storm of years 419 | That beat without your nest. 420 | 421 | O sing, my lark, your matin song 422 | Of joyous rhapsody, 423 | Distil the sweetness of the hours 424 | In gladsome ecstasy. 425 | 426 | For time awaits your buoyant flight 427 | Across the bar of years. 428 | Sing, sing your song, my bonny lark, 429 | Before it melts in tears! 430 | 431 | 432 | Guardianship 433 | 434 | That dusky child upon your knee 435 | Is breath of God’s eternity; 436 | Direct his vision to the height — 437 | Let naught obscure his royal right. 438 | 439 | Although the highways to renown 440 | Are iron-barred by fortune’s frown, 441 | ‘Tis his to forge the master-key 442 | That wields the locks of destiny! 443 | 444 | 445 | 446 | Utopia 447 | 448 | God grant you wider vision, clearer skies, my son, 449 | With morning’s rosy kisses on your brow; 450 | May your wild yearnings know repose, 451 | And storm-clouds break to smiles 452 | As you sweep on with spreading wings 453 | Unto a waiting sunset! 454 | 455 | 456 | Little Son 457 | 458 | The very acme of my woe, 459 | The pivot of my pride, 460 | My consolation, and my hope 461 | Deferred, but not denied. 462 | The substance of my every dream, 463 | The riddle of my plight, 464 | The very world epitomized 465 | In turmoil and delight. 466 | 467 | 468 | Benediction 469 | 470 | Go forth, my son, 471 | Winged by my heart’s desire! 472 | Great reaches, yet unknown, 473 | Await 474 | For your possession. 475 | I may not, if I would. 476 | Retrace the way with you, 477 | My pilgrimage is through, 478 | But life is calling you! 479 | Fare high and far, my son, 480 | A new day has begun. 481 | Thy star-ways must be won! 482 | 483 | 484 | Credo 485 | 486 | I believe in the ultimate justice of Fate; 487 | That the races of men front the sun in their turn; 488 | That each soul holds the title to infinite wealth 489 | In fee to the will as it masters itself; 490 | That the heart of humanity sounds the same tone 491 | In impious jungle, or sky-kneeling fane. 492 | I believe that the key to the life-mystery 493 | Lies deeper than reason and further than death. 494 | I believe that the rhythmical conscience within 495 | Is guidance enough for the conduct of men. 496 | 497 | 498 | Promise 499 | 500 | Through the moil and the gloom they have issued 501 | To the steps of the upwinding hill, 502 | 503 | Where the sweet, dulcet pipes of tomorrow 504 | In their preluding rhapsodies trill. 505 | 506 | With a thud comes a stir in the bosom, 507 | As there steals on the sight from afar, 508 | 509 | Through a break of a cloud’s coiling shadow 510 | The gleam of a bright morning star! 511 | 512 | 513 | The Suppliant 514 | 515 | The Suppliant 516 | Long have I beat with timid hands upon life’s leaden door, 517 | Praying the patient, futile prayer my fathers prayed before, 518 | Yet I remain without the close, unheeded and unheard, 519 | And never to my listening ear is borne the waited word. 520 | 521 | Soft o’er the threshold of the years there comes this counsel cool: 522 | The strong demand, contend, prevail; the beggar is a fool! 523 | 524 | 525 | Hope 526 | 527 | Frail children of sorrow, dethroned by a hue, 528 | The shadows are flecked by the rose sifting through, 529 | The world has its motion, all things pass away. 530 | No night is omnipotent, there must be day. 531 | The oak tarries long in the depth of the seed, 532 | But swift is the season of nettle and weed. 533 | Abide yet awhile in the mellowing shade. 534 | And rise with the hour for which you were made. 535 | The cycle of seasons, the tidals of man 536 | Revolve in the orb of an infinite plan. 537 | We move to the rhythm of ages long done, 538 | And each has his hour — to dwell in the sun! 539 | 540 | 541 | Cosmopolite 542 | 543 | Not wholly this or that, 544 | But wrought 545 | Of alien bloods am I, 546 | A product of the interplay 547 | Of traveled hearts. 548 | Estranged, yet not estranged, I stand 549 | All comprehending; 550 | From my estate 551 | I view earth’s frail dilemma; 552 | Scion of fused strength am I, 553 | All understanding, 554 | Nor this nor that 555 | Contains me. 556 | 557 | 558 | Fusion 559 | 560 | How deftly does the gardener blend 561 | This rose and that 562 | To bud a new creation, 563 | More gorgeous and more beautiful 564 | Than any parent portion, 565 | And so, 566 | I trace within my warring blood 567 | The tributary sources, 568 | They potently commingle 569 | And sweep 570 | With new-born forces! 571 | 572 | 573 | Perspective 574 | 575 | Some day 576 | I shall be glad that it was mine to be 577 | A dark fore-runner of a race burgeoning; 578 | I then shall know 579 | The secret of life’s Calvary, 580 | And bless the thorns 581 | That wound me! 582 | 583 | 584 | When I Rise Up 585 | 586 | When I rise above the earth, 587 | And look down on the things that fetter me, 588 | I beat my wings upon the air. 589 | Or tranquil lie, 590 | Surge after surge of potent strength 591 | Like incense comes to me 592 | When I rise up above the earth 593 | And look down upon the things that fetter me. 594 | 595 | 596 | Faith 597 | 598 | The faint lose faith 599 | When in the tomb their all is laid, 600 | And there returns 601 | No echoing of weal or woe. 602 | The strong hope on, 603 | They see the clods close over head, 604 | The grass grow green. 605 | No word is said. 606 | And yet — 607 | A little world within the world 608 | Are we, 609 | Daily our hearts’ high yearnings fade, 610 | Are buried! 611 | New ones are made, — 612 | Are crucified! 613 | And yet — 614 | 615 | 616 | We Face the Future 617 | 618 | The hour is big with sooth and sign, with errant men at war, 619 | While blood of alien, friend, and foe imbues the land afar, 620 | And we, with sable faces pent, move with the vanguard line. 621 | Shod with a faith that Springtime keeps, and all the stars opine. 622 | 623 | 624 | 625 | Soldier 626 | 627 | Though I should weep until the judgment, 628 | How would it serve — 629 | Brave men are fighting, women speed them, 630 | ‘Tis a day 631 | Of crucial conflict! 632 | My son, sometimes it seems I’d rather hold 633 | You safe beneath my heart 634 | Than send you forth! 635 | But lo! The sun is red and weaker children go! 636 | Though I should weep until the judgment. 637 | How would it serve! 638 | I’ll close my eyes and smile, O Son of Mine, 639 | Your cause is kingly! 640 | Step proud and confident, worthy your mother; 641 | Be firm and brave, O Son of Mine, be strong. 642 | For terror waxeth, 643 | Speed swift away. 644 | Though I should weep until the judgment . . . 645 | 646 | 647 | 648 | Homing Braves 649 | 650 | There’s music in the measured tread 651 | Of those returning from the dead 652 | Like scattered flowers from a plain 653 | So lately crimson, with the slain. 654 | 655 | No more the sound of shuffled feet 656 | Shall mark the poltroon on the street, 657 | Nor shifting, sodden, downcast eye 658 | Reveal the man afraid to die. 659 | 660 | They shall have paid full, utterly 661 | The price of peace across the sea, 662 | When, with uplifted glance, they come 663 | To claim a kindly welcome home. 664 | 665 | Nor shall the old-time daedal sting 666 | Of prejudice, their manhood wing. 667 | Nor heights, nor depths, nor living streams 668 | Stand in the pathway of their dreams! 669 | 670 | 671 | Taps 672 | 673 | They are embosomed in the sod, 674 | In still and tranquil leisure, 675 | Their lives they’ve cast like trifles down, 676 | To serve their country’s pleasure. 677 | 678 | Nor bugle call, nor mother’s voice. 679 | Nor moody mob’s unreason, 680 | Shall break their solace and repose 681 | Through swiftly changing season. 682 | 683 | O graves of men who lived and died 684 | Afar from life’s high pleasures, 685 | Fold them in tenderly and warm 686 | With manifold fond measures. 687 | 688 | 689 | Peace 690 | 691 | Peace on a thousand hills and dales, 692 | Peace in the hearts of men 693 | While kindliness reclaims the soil 694 | Where bitterness has been. 695 | 696 | The night of strife is drifting past, 697 | The storm of shell has ceased. 698 | Disrupted is the cordon fell, 699 | Sweet charity released. 700 | 701 | Forth from the shadow, swift we come 702 | Wrought in the flame together. 703 | All men as one beneath the sun 704 | In brotherhood forever. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /marie-burgess-ave-maria-a-tale-1895.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | "Ave Maria, A Tale" Burgess, Marie Louise 1895 Novella 2 | " Rugged strength and radiant beauty — These were one in nature's plan : Humble toil and heavenward duty — These will make the perfect man." 3 | 4 | Mrs. Hall The bells of St. Cecelia's Church rang at the close of vespers one joyous Lenten evening; the priest had pronounced his blessing and all had departed in peace. The old organist was playing the sweet strains of Ave Maria, Dolorosa, as he sat at the organ which was built in the right side of the chancel. 5 | 6 | The strains soft and sweet fell on the still air, filling the church with an air of Heaven. One could not listen to Ave Maria without a feeling akin to sadness, stealing over him. Just outside the chancel railing, knelt a beautiful girl with the bloom of youth stamped on her rosy cheeks. A girl over whom, perhaps, twenty-one years had rolled, with large, dreamy, blue eyes, which had a glad light of their own in them. On this particular evening the bright eyes were filled with tears ; her heart was full of sorrow. Hers was not an unhappy face; a shadow apparently had fallen over her young life. As we find her, her attitude bespeaks a keen sorrow,— she kneels with head bowed and hands uplifted. 7 | 8 | " O Father," she prayed as she knelt, " help me to bear my burden, help me to do the right. What would it profit me to gain the desire of my heart ? yet, how can I yield ! No, come what may I must bear my burden. Holy Mother, help me to do the right;" thus she prayed. 9 | 10 | Again the sweet strains of Ave Maria swelled on the still air, fainter and fainter became each note till at last they died away. Silently the organist withdrew, and Marguerite Earle was left alone. We picture her just as the twilight deepens. The sun had long since sunk to rest, and only a faint light was visible. The windows of the Cathedral which were beautiful by daylight were more so in the twilight. One indeed must have a hard heart who could pass these pictures without a feeling of adoration for the Saviour stealing over him. The beautiful head was still bowed and the brown ringlets fell unconsciously around her face. Thus she knelt struggling against fate. 11 | 12 | Every brick in this church was sacred to Marguerite. It was within these sacred walls that she was brought when only a few days old to receive her name, and when twelve years of age to receive the Rite of Confirmation and make her First Communion. Year after year she had knelt before the altar, and as she grew in years, and strength of mind and body, her love for this church grew stronger. She had watched her brothers grow up in this church, and they knew no other. Now with a weight of sorrow she knelt once more before the alter. How long she knelt there she knew not. She remembered nothing until a hand was laid gently on her bowed head, and when she looked up she saw Sister Dorothea looking earnestly at her. 13 | 14 | " My child," she asked with gentleness, " what has caused thy sorrow ? Leave all your grief here and go forth as one anew, your Heavenly Father does. not intend such anguish." 15 | 16 | Slowly Marguerite lifted her tear-stained face, and looking at the sister, said, " I cannot, my heart will break." 17 | 18 | She told the sweet sister the cause of her grief; the sister smiled as she said : " Such grief seldom kills, do your duty and God will bless you." 19 | 20 | The girl arose and with the hand of the sister gently clasped in hers, went towards the door. Smiling through her tears, she said to her: "Good-night, dear sister ; thank you for your kindness." 21 | 22 | Her heart seemed lighter as homeward she turned. No mother came forth to share her sorrow, no one in whom she might confide. The children were asleep. She stole quietly into the room where little Jamie lay, sleeping that peaceful sleep of a child who knows no sorrow. Jamie was only about two years old when their mother died, and Marguerite had cared for him as only a loving sister can care for a baby brother. She smoothed back the curls from the tiny brow, and the tears began to fall gently on the bed. Littie Jamie stirred in his sleep, and Marguerite tripped gently out of the room. The happiest days of her life had been spent here as well as some of the saddest. 23 | 24 | " I am very sad to-night," she said, as she sat in the little parlor thinking of her home and her pleasant surroundings. " I must be brave and make my decision. How can I look in those honest eyes and tell him ? How can I bear to see one cloud on that noble brow? Would I might give him the answer for which he pleads, but cost what it may I must not break my promise to my dying mother. Kneeling at her bedside, with the little ones around me, I promised to be faithful to my church and to train my little brothers as she had trained me. If, then, they choose a better, a different path, I will have done my duty. Had I foreseen what it would cost me, I wonder if I could have made the promise ? Mother died happy but her little daughter is miserable, not only one heart is crushed but two must suffer. Ronald's dear mother would not have him change his religion, it would break her heart and we must make the most of my decision." Just then the wicket gate swung open, a step which Marguerite must have recognized was heard on the porch, and she looked up and smiled. 25 | 26 | "May I come in?" she heard some one ask. 27 | 28 | " Certainly, Ronald, she answered. I have been expecting you." 29 | 30 | " Expecting me ? what news ! " then you are pleased to see me ? 31 | 32 | " Yes, Ronald, I am more pleased than ever before, for I know it will be a long time, if ever we meet again. It is very hard to say this, and to you, one whom I have loved from childhood. It does not seem possible for me to leave my dear old home, my loving friends and the associations of my childhood, but it must come." 33 | 34 | " And why, Margie ? " asked Ronald, looking into her face, you have not ceased to care for me. 35 | 36 | " No, nor never will; but you remember how we are divided, to some it seems trifling, but to me, brought up as I have been in my faith, I cannot change. When I think of it I feel as though I sin in thought, and mamma made ; me promise never to leave my church. I cannot, and yet your love for your faith is as strong as mine, so there is nothing for us to do but to part." 37 | 38 | Ronald is surprised at such words from Marguerite. He thought her love for him was greater than her religion. He thought all he had to do was to plead his cause and be accepted. Alas, a bitter disappointment. Marguerite does not look up. The sweet face is lowered to hide the blushes, but he who knew for whom they were meant walked gently to her side and lifted her face in his hands. Never before had she seemed so dear to him. For years he had loved her, and no one else had ever had one thought. She was a Catholic and he a Presbyterian. In her eyes he was a perfect man, her ideal; but the training of her youth kept them divided. 39 | 40 | " Margie, is it true you will let the question of religion divide us? Must we, who love each other so dearly, be separated because of that? God meant us for each other. He does not intend us to have this chasm divide us. If we are only true to Him we will see Him at last. Although we worship in different churches, there is but one gate ; all must enter through it. I do not feel worthy to touch a hair in your head, yet the love of an honest heart I freely give you." 41 | 42 | " Ronald, it is useless. I cannot leave the doctrines of the church in which I was trained. I am grieved to know our paths in life must lie in different directions. You are all in all to me. I fear sometimes you have been almost my idol." 43 | 44 | "Margie, do you think you can conquer fate ?" 45 | 46 | " I would that I could. Why can't you come into my church ?" 47 | 48 | " Remember, Margie, my dear old mother who trained me in the doctrines of her church ; it would hasten her end were I to change. Remember the depth of the chasm between Catholicism and the other religions. Were it any other church we would have no need of all this unhappiness. It is one God we serve; I wish it were through only one church. One of us must yield. Which shall it be ?" 49 | 50 | " Ronald, I cannot leave my church. I realize the sacredness of my promise. I release you. Let us both forget this happy dream which ends so cruelly and abruptly." 51 | 52 | " O, woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, ami hard to please, And variable as the shade. 53 | 54 | By the light quivering aspen glade When pain and anguish rack the brow, A ministering angel art thou."—SCOTT. 55 | 56 | Once more the bells of St. Cecelia's Church chime out in the twilight; once more the sweet face of Marguerite Earle is seen among its worshippers. It will perhaps be a very long time before her sweet voice will join in the "Pater Noster" in this church. To-morrow she will go to the House of Mercy to become a trained nurse. We would not recognize the soft, brown hair of a month ago, for her hair is as white as snow, and falls over her forehead in little ringlets ; her face has a placid expression, and her soul seems to show itself in her clear, blue eyes. Strange it may seem, but nevertheless a month had wrought many changes in Mar-guerite. After vespers she went to the grave of her dear mother, whose spirit was always with her, although tw'o years ago she had watched them carry her to her last resting place. Her tears fell like rain as she knelt by the side of the mound covered with the early grasses of spring. The stars had slowly come out, the moon rose, still she knelt, her sad face bowed as if whispering to her, who lay beneath : " Mother, could you speak to me, I fancy you would sanction the step which I have taken, and say, in your gentle manner, ' Marguerite, I know you are right. The hopes of your youth may be blasted, you may be destined to wander alone through the world, yet not alone, for your Heavenly Father has promised never to forsake you if you serve Him." How hard to believe this, even though we know it be true. 57 | 58 | " Ronald must not be my idol. There are few idols which do not become shattered. Every rose is surrounded by its many thorns. Every heart must be bruised and bled, would that I had never known this." 59 | 60 | The dew began to fall heavily on the grass, the silence was marked, and the chilly night air warned Marguerite to hasten home ere she too might meet an early death. No sleep came to her eyes: her little brother came before her, but she never flinched from duty. In the morning she started for the hospital; how strange for one so young and lovely. When she entered the ward she wore a blue and white gown. She seemed an angel sent to minister to suffering humanity. Her touch was pleasant, her countenance bespoke sweetness itself. Could the people help loving her? Could they help missing her at home ? Ah, no ! How sad must have been the home hearts, when no Marguerite gladdened the house with her sweet smile. Each day they missed her more and more. Her home was lonelv without her, but the hospital wards were brighter for her presence. The patients loved her devotedly, and her sister nurses loved her for her gentleness, and wondered at her loveliness. As they looked into those clear, blue eyes they could not help believing a story was hidden in their depths. If you stole upon her unawares, when quiet and alone, you would find her in deep thought, apparently away from this life. 61 | 62 | The trials of hospital life , none can realize but those who have been through them. Unless you love your work it is hard to endure its many ups and downs. The poor, suffering creatures whom you see daily, draw the best and kindliest feelings out of you, and the grateful looks on the drawn faces is pleasant to see. One day Marguerite went into a ward where there was a poor woman, whose soul really was in a sadder condition than her body. She was a sinner, one whom Marguerite pitied ; it grieved her to see one astray. She went to the bedside of the poor girl, whose face bore lines of distress and sickness, and asked if the rector of the parish might be allowed to visit her. The young girl shook her head sadly, but Marguerite sent for the rector, who came and ministered to her. 63 | 64 | She was motherless and alone in the world, and he pointed her to the mother of our Lord, who was the purest of women, and tried to impress upon her mind that she prayed for all of us with Jesus in Heaven. In the same room with her was a lady who thought kindness the way to win Ellen on the right side. She furnished her with little delicacies, fruit and berries. She once said, " It was worth a hundred dollars just to see Marguerite enter their room and smile. She always brought a ray of sunshine with her." 65 | 66 | Thus, through the two years of hospital life she did good to all kinds and classes of people. When at last she left the hospital it was with a feeling of sadness. During that time she saw very little of Ronald. He dared not trust himself to visit her, and she felt that it was better so. His mother grieved for him. She loved Marguerite, but she was a thorough Puritan in her religious principles. With eager eyes and anxious heart, she watched his beautiful brow. She noticed the cloud that had gathered there. He never murmured, but fulfilled his filial duties, and was as kind and thoughtful as ever. 67 | 68 | " When I forget that the stars shine in air— When I forget that beauty is in stars— When I forget that love with beauty is -Will 1 forget thee : till then all things else." 69 | 70 | — BAILEY'S FESTUS. 71 | 72 | Five years have elapsed since Marguerite Earle had left her home for a new work. Now, for the first time, she has returned to the dear ones again. She is sitting in her parlor with the little brother, now a bright child of seven years, on her knee, his little hands sticking with candy, his little face covered with dirt. Little Jamie forgets that Margie might not care to have her face smeared with candy. He proves fair to be a smart boy, and Margie is very proud of him. 73 | 74 | While quietly rocking him before the fireplace, there was a fierce pull at the bell, and someone asked if Miss Earle were at home. She went to the door and found Dr. Burton, who wished her to go to a little child who had membranous croup. 75 | 76 | Tired from her years of toil and hard nursing, she felt unable to go, but duty stared her in the face, and in a few moments she was on her way. She found her patient, a sweet little girl, suffering intensely. When croup of this form develops in a child it almost always proves fatal. This child had croup in its worst form, and Margie saw no possible way for recovery. She found a fairhaired woman kneeling by the crib, sobbing as if her heart would break. 77 | 78 | " My dear woman," Margie said, gently, " I will look after the baby; you must be worn out." 79 | 80 | I am heart-broken," the mother answered, sobbing; "my poor little Theresa." 81 | 82 | Margie pursuaded her to leave the room, and then, with the doctor, began to work over the baby. They did every thing that human skill could do. It seemed as if the reaper, Death, had marked her for his own. All night long she watched over the dying child, praying that it might be spared for its mother's sake. The father she had not seen, but they told her he had paced the floor all the lonely hours of the night, so great was his anxiety for his little daughter. 83 | 84 | In the morning, as Margie went across the hall, she looked up, and there, standing in the doorway of an opposite room, was Ronald Ives. She smiled at him, then hurried back to her patient. Her face became crimson, all the old love awoke, the tender feeling for him returned, and her face was a picture in its confusion. 85 | 86 | " What relation was he to this child ? Merciful heaven, he could not be its father." She sighed and shook her head. "Can I be forgotten so soon ? I, who have had no thought for anyone else. Can this be his little child whom I am nursing?" These questions and numerous others flashed through her mind. 87 | 88 | Just then Ronald said, in his old, pleasant manner, "Good morning, Margie, I hope you are very well ; you have had a hard night with my little Theresa. I am so glad to have you care for her. I felt as though I could trust her with you. You did not know I had become a benedict. We have just come from abroad, and have not been home a week. I have a sweet, young wife, an English girl, beautiful and accomplished. I try to make her happy. Our little girl is only a year old. I fear I have loved her too dearly. Forgive me for telling you all this, but I know you have forgotten me long before this." 89 | 90 | " No, Ronald, that day will never come." 91 | 92 | Just then Theresa cried. Margie went to the cradle. A great change had come over little Theresa ; she saw that in a short time the child would be no more. She expected Dr. Burton every minute, and anxiously she listened for his footstep. 93 | 94 | " Ronald, has this baby been baptized ?" she asked. 95 | 96 | " No, Margie, I am sorry to say." 97 | 98 | She took some water and sprinkled it according to the doctrines of her church ; she believed baptism necessary before it died. She knelt and said a few prayers. She felt the little life ebbing away. The mother was prostrated with grief; she could not bear to see her darling suffer. When the doctor came he saw the child sinking fast. 99 | 100 | Ronald paced the room like a mad man. God, who doeth ail things for the best, took the child, and left the parents to console each other. How hard it is to resign our loved ones, though it be but for a short time, Marguerite performed the last sad duties as carefully as though it were her own child. When her work was ended she left the parents alone in their sorrow, and returned to her charity patients. 101 | 102 | Ronald had married Corinne Payne because he did not know what else to do. His mother begged him not to let her die without seeing someone to care for him and his home, so he married the first sweet girl whom he thought loved him. To say that he loved her would be untrue, yet he was as faithful to her as most men are. He did his duty. He had woed her in that methodical way that the lords of creation often do ; she, simple, trusting woman, believed she had his whole heart. He loved their little daughter, and now she being dead, he felt as though God had taken her because he did not love the mother as he ought. He inwardly resolved to be true to his wife, and never again be disturbed by the sweet face of Marguerite Earle. He had begun to love the Anglican Church, of which Corinne was a member, and accompanied her there whenever she attended service. One Sunday morning, a few months after the death of Theresa, they sat in the Church of the Messiah listening to a communion service. He was very much touched by the solemnity of the occasion. About twenty children were receiving their first communion. The white dresses and veils of the girls made the sight doubly impressive as they knelt before the altar. 103 | 104 | The choir sang, " O, Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us." 105 | 106 | What was there in those words that brought tears to the eyes of Ronald Ives ? What was it that made him weep as he watched his wife kneeling? How many times had he watched Marguerite in the same attitude. He thought, after all, there was something in that religion which he did not have. As he wen t home he said very little, and Corinne was too sensible to disturb his thoughts. 107 | 108 | One evening, a few days later, she asked him to be baptized, and promised to be one of his sponsors. He smiled mischieviously as he said : "A wee little wife to be sponsor for me. I will think about it!" 109 | 110 | It was not long before Ronald was baptized. How it came about they never knew, and never worried him with enquiries. He was among the candidates for the next confirmation class. 111 | 112 | Corinne dared not express herself, for her heart was too full. She determined not to breathe her thoughts until the work was done and the Bishop had laid his hands on Ronald's head. 113 | 114 | " The summer day has closed—the sun is set, Well have they done their office, those bright hours. The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west."—Bryant. 115 | 116 | And what of Marguerite ; where is she all the while ? 117 | 118 | If you go down in the slums of the city every morning you will see a tall, slender creature clad in dark blue serge, going among the Russians and Italians, ministering to the sick and afflicted. 'These people live like bees in a hive, but as dirty as can be, in the very atmosphere of disease. Sometimes there would be a mother and six or seven small children in two small rooms. Some of these cases are very heart-rending, and one feels as though too much cannot be done for them. 119 | 120 | Sweet Marguerite Earle had plodded in this manner for over five weary years. It was beginning to tell on her. Her brothers were well up in the world. The little one was quite grown now, and her heart was filled with gratitude. Home seemed dearer than ever to her. One evening she read among the items of news in one of the daily papers an account of the coming confirmation at the Church of the Messiah. An intense longing filled her heart. " How I would like to go," she said, eagerly. " What a happy Palm Sunday for the candidates." Accordingly, on Palm Sunday evening the church was filled to overflowing, and among the worshippers was Margie. The processional hymn was,. " Ride on, ride on, in majesty ride on!" The procession moved slowly up the aisle, each choir boy bearing a branch of palm. The beautiful evening service was sung by the rector, and the " Magnificat " was never sung more beautifully by the choir boys. The sermon by the bishop was very interesting and touching. He impressed the candidates with the sacredness of the vows they were taking. 121 | 122 | As the choir sung " Soldiers of Christ arise, and put your armor on," about forty girls came forward and about fifteen men and boys. Can you imagine the feeling that swelled in Marguerite's bosom as she saw the tall figure of Ronald come forward and kneel. As the bishop laid his hands on his head, one heart offered a prayer of thanks. 123 | 124 | Corinne was very happy. Ronald knew the bowed head, and felt that no one was more welcome at the service. When she returned to her home she was happier than she had been for years. 125 | 126 | She resumed her duties with a beautiful smile on her countenance; her'work seemed lighter than ever. All these years she had no vacation, and her doctor advised a rest and change of scene. She did not think her patients could spare her, but she decided to rest for a year. She went abroad with some friends and found her trip so pleasant she did not return for two years. 127 | 128 | There were two spots especially dear to her—her mother's grave and St. Cecelia's church. As soon as she reached home she went to the church and knelt before the altar, with a heart much lighter than when last she knelt there. 129 | 130 | She then turned her steps towards the cemetery. She could not help thinking of the many changes the years had brought. She left the cemetery feeling consecrated anew to the work, more willing than even to take up her life of duty. She forgot herself and her hopes, living only for others. 131 | 132 | About ten years later there was an epidemic of diptheria in the district where she toiled. Patient after patient died of the dread disease. 133 | 134 | Marguerite contracted it in its worst form, and was taken home one evening in a very critical condition. A sister came from St. Mary's home to care for her, but her work was finished. 135 | 136 | One evening, just as the twilight was deepening and the bells of St. Cecelia's Church chimed once more the close of the vesper service, the soul of sweet Marguerite Earle took its flight into paradise. A smile lighted the wan face as she passed away with her eyes fixed on a picture of the Madonna opposite her bed. 137 | 138 | They buried her beside the mother for love of whom she sacrificed so much, and when years after, a gray-haired man knelt by her grave, none knew but himself why he wept so bitterly. 139 | 140 | THE END. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /Sarah-Lee-Brown-Fleming-Clouds-and-Sunshine-1920-Poetry.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE BY SARAH LEE BROWN FLEMING Author of Hope's Highwa‘y 3 | 4 | THE CORNHILL COMPANY BOSTON 5 | 6 | 7 | THIS LITTLE BOOK I AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATE TO MY CHILDREN. DOROTHY AND HAROLD 8 | 9 | Table of Contents 10 | 11 | CONTENTS 12 | DOROTHEA 13 | TUSKEGEE . 14 | DEATH . . . . 15 | WHEN LOVE SLEEPETH . 16 | COME LET Us BE FRIENDs . 17 | MAN’s INCONSTANCY COMFORT . . . 18 | THE SPIRIT OF A FRIEND MY FORTUNE . 19 | THE WITCH . 20 | PAL, LET’s BE TRUE . 21 | A NIBBLING MOUSE . . 22 | BOY AT SCHOOL IN ENGLAND . 23 | WHAT Is IT? . 24 | MAMMY . 25 | DE TANGO 26 | LEssoN 27 | BACK-SLIDING LIzA . 28 | THE LONESOME MAN 29 | THE BLACK MAN’s PLEA 30 | EMANCIPATION 31 | CELEBRATION 32 | RADIANT WOMAN 33 | THE DYING NEGRO 34 | THE BLACK MAN’s HOPE 35 | AN EXHORTATION 36 | PICTURES 37 | NIGHT SONG . . . . 38 | PUT AWAY THAT UKELELE . 39 | CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE 40 | 41 | DOROTHEA The stars in Heaven now shine with a fuller, gladder light, My days no longer seem a long and dreary night; Since thou dost love me dear, all things seem more than bright, Dorothea, Dorothea, my own Dorothea. If griefs and sorrows come, they do not pierce so deep, If tears bedim my eyes they are the bitter-sweet, If death doth part us here, I know somewhere we’ll meet, Dorothea, Dorothea, my own Dorothea. And e’en though death does come, I’ll always see thy face, Thy hand within my own I ever will embrace, Remembrance of thee in my soul will have a place. Dorothea, Dorothea, my own Dorothea. [1] 42 | 43 | TUSKEGEE Sacred spot on which thou art, 0 school of industry. Thou art doing well thy part To aid humanity. On thy consecrated ground Is carved a wondrous story, Out of chaos, Washington Raised this place to glory. The world has made a beaten track Unto thy very door,— A fountain on the desert sands Thou art for evermore. [2] 44 | 45 | DEATH The spirit out of it hath flown, And left the body all alone, So after all, what is this clay, Which we so cherish, can you say? Look on this form now still in death, The force is gone which we call breath; The faculties, yes, every one, Have stopped their use, with spirit gone. 0 death, thou art so grim and drear, What awful silence thou doth wear. And thou must visit ev’ry one,— Yes, every being ’neath the sun. 0, death, thou art a woeful state, All mankind well doth thee berate,— Because we know not what awaits Beyond thy grey, mysterious gates. Ah death, if I could truly say, “I fear thee neither night nor day!” If I but knew to what estate My wandering spirit might awake— [3] 46 | 47 | I would not quake when thou art near, Thy presence I would not so fear; But ’tis the mystery that attends Thy awful mission, that offends. [4] 48 | 49 | WHEN LOVE SLEEPETH Love built a fairy bower, with roses red and white, And watched it ev’ry hour to keep the flowers bright: For oh, it was so fair, this bower which love did make,-—- A benediction, prayer, its perfume ever spake. And when the chill frost came, Love showered warmth and kisses, For whom Love doth caress, the frost he surely misses: But one night Love did sleep, the frost was round about, He pierced the roses deep to blot their sweetness out. Oh, desolation drear hath gripped Love’s rosy bower, No brightness find we there, for Love hath lost all power, Ah, Love will sometimes sleep, too oft when needed most, And will not always keep forever at her post. [5] 50 | 51 | COME LET US BE FRIENDS Come, let us be friends, you and I, E’en though the world doth hate at this hour; Let’s bask in the sunlight of a love so high That war cannot dim it with all its armed power. Come, let us be friends, you and I, The world hath her surplus of hatred today; She needeth more love, see, she droops with a sigh, Where her axis doth slant in the sky far away. Come, let us be friends, you and I, And love each other so deep and so well, That the world may grow steady and forward fly, Lest she wander towards chaos and drop into hell. [6] 52 | 53 | MAN'S INCONSTANCY The earth revolves, The sun doth shine, The moon at night, With stars divine, All tell us that Fond nature’s way, Is much the same From day to day. We know at night, When tasks are done, We’ll sleep to wake And greet the sun. We know the spring With gentle grace, To summer will Give up its place. What man is like Fond nature true? Can we depend On what he’ll do? Today he steps With heavy tread. Tomorrow finds Him full of dread. [7] 54 | 55 | Today he’ll swear By all the gods You can rely Upon his words. Tomorrow, he Will say to you, “I did not speak Those words untrue.” And so it is, From day to day, We can’t depend On what men say. All thro’ our lives We’ll meet but few Whom we can trust, Whose hearts beat true. [8] 56 | 57 | COMFORT I take my cares to Jesus, And lay them at His feet. He will for every sorrow Give consolation sweet. Upon my head He places His hand so tenderly, He tells me that He giveth His love to comfort me. Oh Christ, Oh Benediction, Where could I go for rest, But here upon thy foot-stool, Or else upon thy breast? Dear Savior, I do feel thee Forever at my side; Take not from me thy presence, But with me e’er abide. [9] 58 | 59 | THE SPIRIT OF A FRIEND Back to the dust went the dust of the body, But the spirit that turned to its Maker on high, Filled the air, as it passed, with so wistful a sweetness, That its fragrance will linger through years that slip by. [10] 60 | 61 | MY FORTUNE A gypsy wandered by one day, When I was young and blithe and gay, She begged me in a way so free,— “Come, have your fortune told by me.” \ Now certainly, if we could chance, To know our future in advance, Would we not think the matter o’er, Before the gypsy left our door? Well, this I did, in days before Experience had taught me; Lo, I told her I would pay her well, If she my future life would tell. I sat me down, and so did she, My hand she took upon her knee; “Ah, Miss,” said she, “will you but hear, These rings you have shall cost you dear.” The precious rings I treasured so, A mother’s gift, if you must know. I said “If these I should not wear I’ll take them OE and hold them dear.” [11] 62 | 63 | “Ah, no,” she said, “that will not do”; I’ll hold them for a blessing, true, And when I give them back again, The world can ne’er more cause thee pain.” “Gypsy,” I said, “I cannot part With these dear rings so near my heart, A mother’s gift I must retain, Gypsy, you plead for these in vain!” She said, “If you’ll not give them o’er, Ill luck I see for you in store, Circles around thee do revolve, In blackness they will thee involve!” “Give o’er thy rings and thou shalt see Thy bondage turned to liberty, Riches and love and fame are thine, Circles so bright do thee enshrine!” Her eye was set upon my gold. Plotting for it her heart was cold; No sentiment could change her aim, Her blood was up, for gold she came. Forgive me, friends, when this I say, I forthwith gave those rings away. [12] 64 | 65 | I truly thought she had the power To change my fortune in that hour. I’ve lived to learn since that sad day, That none can know—whate’er you pay, Your fortune lies twixt God and you Who says he knows, he speaks untrue. [13] 66 | 67 | THE WITCH Lo, the witch all shriveled and old! Come in and have your fortune told. She, by the aid of a magic wand, Can see the future in your hand. What in your hand she cannot trace, She'll surely find it in your face. She’ll tell you when you’re going to wed,— If the friend long gone is alive or dead. If you’ll be poor or you’ll have gold, Come in and have your fortune told! 68 | 69 | PAL, LET’S BE TRUE Pal, let’s be true, I will, will you? Our country calls to the strife. Come to its aid, Don’t be afraid,— For it to save, what’s a life? Yes, we will go, Fighting? Ah more,— We’ll never know a retreat. Proudly we move, And e’en will prove, Our fight the best in the feat. Wonderful land, Think of the hand America takes in the fight. Hers is to brave, Hers is to save, For justice, truth and the right. [15] 70 | 71 | A NIBBLING MOUSE The swiftest, nibbling, little mouse, Has made its home within my house, I set a trap both night and day, To try and catch it if I may,— This nibbling, little mouse. Today when writing at my desk, Out it came to make a quest. It ran around with so much glee, Seemed not a bit afraid of me,— This nibbling, little mouse. Straightway I rose and got my broom To chase the creature from the room. Round and round it scampered fast; Trying to catch, I darted past This nibbling, little mouse. We kept the chase up half an hour, Until I felt I’d lost all power To chase behind it any more, So left it prattling on the floor,— This nibbling, little mouse. All tired out, I then sat down And soon within a study, brown, [16] 72 | 73 | I thought of phantoms, as they pass, And how thro’ life we chase them as This nibbling, little mouse. Yes, all thro’ life we find it so,— Chasing shadows as we go, We almost catch them, but alas, They baffle us and slip on, as This nibbling, little mouse. [17] 74 | 75 | BOY AT SCHOOL IN ENGLAND Mother, could you but know What thoughts I have of thee, Your little boy so far away, In this land across the sea. Mother, could you but look Within my eyes so wet With tears, because I miss you so,— This yearning I regret. Could you but listen as I talk Of love and home and you; My heart so fills I cannot keep The grief from coming through. Last night I dreamed I felt Your kiss upon my cheek. And thought I could not live without That touch another week. The boys around have mothers Who see them off and on. Sometimes I feel so lonesome, As if mine were dead and gone. [18] 76 | 77 | Oh, Mother, it is awful when A boy can’t have the treat To see his mother now and then. Such luck, it can’t be beat. Say, Mother, won't you promise When the next big ship sets sail, You’ll come yourself upon it, Instead of sending mail? [19] 78 | 79 | WHAT IS IT? There is a subtle something That speaks where’er you go, By tongue it is not uttered, Than words it speaks much more. You go forth on your missions, And carry it along; It’s like some beauteous flower, And like some soothing song. It’s like some fragrant perfume That's wafted by the breeze. It gives out so much comfort It sheds abroad such ease. What is this subtle something? Folks ask me, and I say I cannot well define it Nor either teach the way. It is an inner something. I know that it must be Clear shining through your body And giving light to me. [20] 80 | 81 | I love to have you near me. Just why I cannot say, But this I know, your presence Just changes night to day. Methought I saw a halo Surrounding your fair form, When you approached that mother Whom death had left forlorn. And then when asked for service, As fleetful as a bird, You answered with a presence Which spoke far more than word. I would, if you would charge me, Perform some duty true, That I may ever daily Grow more like unto you. What is that subtle something You carry where you go? I long to have you name it Oh do, that I may know. [21] 82 | 83 | DIALECT POEMS 84 | 85 | MAMMY Large of frame, black of face, Spotless apron ’round her waist, Teeth so pearly, eyes so true, Make you think of heav’n so blue, That’s Mammy. Moving ’round the house with ease, Trying ev’ryone to please. In and out with so much grace, Acting like she Owned the place, That’s Mammy. Sister trudging down the hall Trips o’er rug and has a fall, Quick as lightning Mammy’s there Fussing with the hurt and scare. Dear Mammy. Jane has fallen in the dirt. Soiled all her nice new skirt, Comes a-cryin’ to the place; Stops soon as she sees the face Of Mammy. 86 | Mammy soothes the hurt and scare Till there's none left anywhere, With her “Hush, now Honey, do! Mammy loves you through and through.” Oh Mammy! Mammy now has passed away, But the memory lives today With me, and shall never die, Though the years go flitting by. Blest Mammy. [26] 87 | 88 | DE TANGO LESSON Start up de ban’! De men folks stan’ And take yo’ partners for dis tango-flam. Now step right so,— Light on de flo’, Forward,— an’ now backward you all mus’ go. Don’ step so hard, 0, bless de Lord! See Jim done slip like de flo’ is lard. Now start again, I makes it plain, Forward an’ backward den ben’ yo’ frame— Now do it once mo’, Den I’ll say go,— And’ keep up dat move- ment all roun’ de flo’. [27] 89 | 90 | Miss Nancy Jane, Ketch up yo’ train! It mus’n’t be a-draggin’; Does I speak plain? Look at dem feet, See how they meet, No regiment of soldiers is got dem beat. Now ain’t dat gran, Jus’ watch Jack Ran, He’s leadin’ dem dancers like a soldier man! Look at ole Pop, Jus’ like a top, I ain’t seed him move from dat one spot! Watch sister Cloe, How she do go, A-swingin’ an’ a-swayin' jus’ watch her on de flo’! Watch Ephraim’s pace, Now ain’t dat grace? Lor’ help me, dese darkies is jus’ eatin’ up de place! [28] 91 | 92 | Just’ watch dat time, How dey keeps in line; Lor’ help me, dis music and dis dancin’ is divine! Ah, let ’er go! Hear dat music flow, Dey’s playin’ dis tango, like dey ain’t no mo! Look at ole Pop! ' Make dat music stop. He’s dancin’ like de devil done nail him to dat spot! Here, clear de flo’, Sam, ope’ de do’. We ain’t gwine to dance dis tango any mo’. [29] 93 | 94 | BACK-SLIDING LIZA What's dat Honey, you jis say, World ain’t ’ligious in dis day? Bless my soul, jis’ know dat’s so? I done knowed dat long ago. Lord dis world does move so fas’, ’Ligion now’s a thing 0’ the pas’; Wonder what’s the end to be, I don’ know an’ I can’t see. All I know I’m satisfied, Lord I’s stickin’ on your side. Dere’s my gal,—Liza Jane, Lordy me, dat gal is vain, All she thinks about is style. Lord, dat gal’ll drive me wil’. Talk about your edication, Lize kin read thro’ Revelation, But her ’ligion’s been neglected. Lize’s soul has ne’er been ’fected. Honey, don't you know dese schools Never had no kind of rules. All my money gone to waste Lize can’t pray now, lost de tas’. What I gwine to do, Miss Ca’line, Wid dat wayward gal o’ mine. Pray an’ it will be alright? Well, I prays both day an’ night,— [30] 95 | 96 | Lord, do take dis gal o’ mine, In dose mighty hands 0’ thine. Shut her eyes to all dis show,— So invitin’ here below. Show her Lord, de perfec’ way, I done foun’ dis many a day. When she, Lord, Thy love confes’ Shiel’ her, Father, on Thy breas’. [31] 97 | 98 | THE LONESOME MAN Little Rassus Wickens, sittin’ in de do’, Mammy’s gone to market, hear him cryin’ low, “Mammy why’d you go an’ lef me all a-lone, I’s yo’ little Honey, Mammy, come back home.” All de odder chil’n playin in de san’ But dis little darkey is one lonesome man,— Listen to dose heart-throbs as he cries so low, Little Rassus Wickens, sittin’ in de do’. Ah, within dat chile-breas’, chile of darkes’ hue,— Mother love is dyed in royal color too, Listen to dose heart-throbs, as he cries so low, Little Rassus Wickens, sittin’ in de do’. [32] 99 | 100 | RACE POEMS 101 | 102 | THE BLACK MAN'S PLEA Chains of bondage did imprint, Far deeper wounds than one could see. Sinking through flesh and blood and bone, They struck the deeper life that is Beneath the flesh, wherein doth course The blood that carnal life doth give. Their piercing darts did wound the life, That’s more than carnal in the man. Stag’ring underneath the blow, Which quelled a life-blood for a while, And which today hath not regained Its former circulation. Life-blood That doth make men, men! Not the Corpuscles of red and white that Coursing through veins do lend them hue, But, life-blood that doth give that force Which makes a glorious race of men, And fills with pride and all things true, Giving an everlasting hope! Prostrate he lay upon his back Till freedom nursed him back again To perfect health?—Ah, far from that, ’Tis long ’ere that can be enjoyed. 103 | The race, still crippled by the blow Is like a tree supposed dead,— Showing now and then some signs of life. Mankind! no blow is great as that Which strikes through flesh and blood and bone, And wounds the vital parts where lives The greater, nobler life of man. Ye who look without today, Upon a race of tardy men, Whose step is lax and spirit slow; Although they measure not with those Who, generations freed, have built What liberty alone can raise, Great monuments,—that do proclaim Much credit to their mighty minds, Forbearance, do I ask of you. And do not chide this crippled race That, convalescent, tries to stand But totters still from slav’ry’s blow. Tear down your veil of prejudice, And look ye forth with naked eye Upon the field of wounded men. See, some do rise above that plain Of desolation and despair, And still go forth with willing hands To turn the wheels of progress too, In spite of all that was and is. [36] 104 | 105 | EMANCIPATION CELEBRATION Dear friends, we’re gathered here tonight, To celebrate a great birth-right; Which came to us when Lincoln said That bondage must be stricken dead; Or else the country great and grand, Would totter so it could not stand. To him appeared in Spirit bold, The great George Washington of old, Said he, “This conflict cannot last, It drains our country’s life blood fast. Haste Lincoln! set these people free, It is not right, it must not be. So Lincoln we all know so well, Did set them free. Could I but tell What shouts arose when bonds were broke, The country trembled at the stroke When slav’ry fell. A few remain, The G. A. R.’s, to tell again How on the field of fire and blood They risked their lives, and bravely stood To help the cause, with all their might. Dear friends, they are our guests to-night, Since dear old Lincoln is not here, They are the next to him most dear. [37] 106 | 107 | From slavery forth, without one cent, With spirit broke, my people went To wander in the world so cold; To find a place, and oft were told, Your pedigree we cannot trace,— You’re classed with an unfavored race. Forthwith they went with awful taint, The nature now I will not paint; The chattels of another race. 0 God, ’twas hard to find a place. Who says the race has not progressed? He doth not know, we've had the test. Despite these drawbacks ev’ry one, We're here to tell what we have done, And say, if some do not advance As people do who’ve had the chance 0f longer years than we’ve been free. Just reason why and you shall see. See what we've done in fifty years! Another fifty are my prayers The man unborn will yet perceive A progress now we can’t conceive. He to the world will then expose, A worthier race and how it rose. We’ve gone part way and I discern The light of hope as it doth burn. [38] 108 | 109 | Plod on, my race, to reach the goal; The path is rough, but that's the toll. Plod on, to get with all our might, The things we ought with our birthright! [39] 110 | 111 | RADIANT WOMAN I passed among the lowly poor, Within a little street, A mother sat within her door, A baby at her feet. In speaking of that mother, I cannot say that she Had pedigree behind her, The same as you, or me. For she was bound in body, (As some are wont to say). Her race, not very lofty, Was being crushed that day. ’Tis sad it is the custom, In this enlightened time, That people, not in wisdom, Are prone to draw a line,— And say that human creatures, Because their skin is black, Because they’ve ugly features, Must all be pushed right back. [40] 112 | 113 | This mother as she sat there, Did open up to me, A realm, so full of grandeur, From darkness, oh, so free! Her face though in its blackness, Was radiant as the sun, Her features, plain and homely, Seemed glorious ev’ry one. What was this revelation, I asked myself that day? That wondrous penetration, That to my soul made way? 0 yes, ’twas more than human. I must in truth admit. I saw more than the woman Who in the door did sit. I saw that inward something A-calling out to me,— “Look you beyond the body, Divinity you’ll see!” The look that was so glorious, Transplanted on that face, Told me a Christ victorious, Had in her heart found place. [41] 114 | 115 | THE DYING NEGRO Seems to me in lookin’ over yonder, I see the day a-growin’ very dark, Seems to me while in dis’ Ian’ I wander, No joyful song is heard'from singin’ lark. Seems to me some lonesome note is stealin’, O’er barren waste, from achin’ people's souls. Seems to me I hear some lips repeatin’ “That sorrow in dis’ Ian’ like waves do roll.” Seems to me I hear some distant voices Echoin’ forth from slav’ry times to me Seems to me they ask me what I sigh for And tells me to be happy ’cause I’m free. Seems to me I answer an’ I tells them That slav’ry’s chains are broken ofi my han’s, Seems to me those very chains are bindin’ My soul so close and closer with their ban’s! Seems to me I hear my people sighin’, For help, God’s help, in dis ungrateful Ian’, Seems to me I hear my people cryin’ “These burdens Lord are more than we can stan’." [42] 116 | 117 | Seems to me the freedom that we cherished Is bein’ robbed from out our very lives, Seems to me that which we thought had perished Is growin’ now to one enormous size. Seems to me I hear some holy voices, A-chantin’ now some heav’nly song to me, Seems to me my soul within rejoices, For death at las’ has come to make me free! \ [43] 118 | 119 | THE BLACK MAN’S HOPE I hear the talk of the white man’s hope In the ring and at the poll, But never a word of the black man’s hope Do I hear as time doth roll. Bowed with the weight which slavery left Upon his chattled frame, No star of hope comes into view The weight is still the same. 0 prejudice, cursed prejudice, ’Tis thou that blights the way, And makes us feel there is no hope There is no fairer day. Thou poisoned venom, prejudice, Who gavest thee thy birth? Art born of devil or of man, How camest thou on earth? I’ve heard it said that some believe, That God so in his love Ordained that man be bound to man, Do you believe the above? [44] 120 | 121 | Do you believe such laws are made That blacks should till the soil, While other races reign supreme, Removed from all such toil? Why, God created all men here Upon one level plane. All bodies of the dust were made, To dust must go again. Then why should color play such part Upon this mortal earth? No man has power to change his skin, WE’RE ACCIDENTS OF BIRTH. 122 | 123 | AN EXHORTATION Is there no prophet, seer nor bard, At this compelling time, To sing a song or say a word, Or even write a line? Is there an ear that will not hear, The wails, the groans of men, Of suckling infants, babes unborn, Oh, who will ease their pain? Is there a mouth that will not speak, Of wrongs they do endure, No tongues that in a language may Some remedy outpour? Speak, oh, ye long dumb mouths, oh speak, And to a people tell The burden forced upon you now Makes earth to you a hell. A battle fierce is raging, Unlike the usual fray, ’Tis worse than other conflicts That are fought by night or day. Those men at last find succor, The helpless blind and lame, But none comes to that woeful depth,— The heart, when full of pain. [46] 124 | 125 | This pain’s an awful burden, To trudge on day by day. It crushes soul and body And makes indifference play; It shoots right to the marrow Of life, its hopes, and oh, Threatens the very right to live, Tries manhood to o’erthrow. 0 bards, who in the days of yore, Did move a nation's heart, Who with your great and glorious strain Did still a turbulent mart, Come sing again another strain Of duty, and above All else, oh, sing that glorious strain,— That wondrous strain of love. Sing them a wondrous story This burdened race of men, Paint it with all the glory that Can come forth from your pen. Set it to tuneful melody, As ever man did hear, So that a race benighted Will sing with heartiest cheer. [47] 126 | 127 | PICTURES I. SLAVERY Gaze on this picture of the past, See cruel master, whip in hand, Upon yon slave, whose back is bent, Scourge upon scourge he letteth fall. “My God, my God!” the slave doth cry, “How long shall I these burdens bear?” “To work, to work,” the master cries, “Go fill my coffers with thy brawn.” Who doth not know, who hath not felt, For those who lived in that sad time? What is the life of him who slaves, Whose body is not called his own? They bore the stripes, endured the pain, With not one murmur but to pray. They sang the songs we all do know, The songs that we shall sing again. These prayers and songs were wafted up, And, oh, they were so wondrous sweet, They reached a throne where sits a Judge Who judgeth slow but judgeth well. They listened and they heard response— “I will repay, I will repay!” II. wAR Then discord rose twixt North and South, ’Twas over slaves, you know it well. [48] 128 | 129 | Came Ab’ram Lincoln to the front, A bloody battle to pursue. See war in all its dreadful state,— A scourge of men these battles are: A price was paid so dear in blood, By North and South in that great war, That not a home was left without Some loved one gone forevermore. A cry was made for volunteers Who’ll answer it? Ah, you can tell. See black men marching to the front, With steadystep and wondrous stride, How fearlessly they go to die! And yet they say we are afraid To risk our lives for a great cause. Yet I believe that you or I If needed at some future time, Will march as proudly to the front As they did then in sixty-three. III. FREEDOM The war is o'er, the slaves are free, They walk abroad as man with man. But note the frown upon the brow Of yonder man whose skin is fair. “I will not walk, as man with man, With yonder black,” I hear him say, “He was not made to cope with me, Who rule this land, whose skin is fair.” 207335 [49] 130 | 131 | Then what is this I see unearthed, So soon as slavery’s debt is paid? ’Tis prejudice, cursed prejudice, Another form of slavery. IV. LYNCHING See yonder mob, full fifty strong, Hound that poor lad of Negro blood. He fleeth to the woods, and oh, They set the dogs upon his trail. At last he’s caught, and 10, what then? They string him to you leafless tree, And to his clothes they put a flame, And now he’s in eternity. V. DISCRIMINATION Not wanted here, not wanted there, Such signs go up all o’er the land. My God, then are my people free! No vote for you, no vote for me. Have we not borne the stripes enough, Our cry goes up,—“How long, how long!” VI. FUTURE Let’s leave these pictures of the past, And pictures of the present time, And wander on and on and on, Unto some great approaching dawn. My final picture is this one, [50] 132 | 133 | ’Tis not with master, whip in hand, But it is Black and White, alike, Holding aloft the stars and stripes. They’ve buried far beneath the sod Grim prejudice and all lynch laws, And all in one united band, Proclaim the freedom of the land. List, up to heaven there goes a sigh Of long restraint, and then a cry,— “Praise God we’re free, at last we’re free.” [51] 134 | 135 | NIGHT SONG (NEGRO LULLABY) I. Honey, take yo’ res, on yo’ Mammy’s breas’, See dat light a-fadin’ ’mong de pine trees in de wes’. Yes, de day is gone, night is comin’ on, Darksome night mus’ come to us before another dawn. . Chorus Whippo-will is callin’, callin’ to his mate, Mockin’-bird is callin’ too, Pine trees is a-sighin’, babies is a-cryin’, As the dark-some night is passin’ through. Go to sleep, ma little honey, go to sleep, Shut yo’ weary eyelid an’ don’ you weep, Sleep and take yo’ res’, On yo’ Mammy’s breas’, Night can never harm you here. II. Honey, don’ you see, dat it’s got to be, Day an’ night, yes, day an’ night, until yo’ spirit’s free, Den you’ll quit ma breas’, fer to go an’ res’ Wid Anodder, who can pro-tec’ you from harm de bes’! [52] 136 | 137 | PUT AWAY THAT UKELELE AND BRING OUT THE OLD BANJO I. Don’t you hear old Orpheus calling to you, Alex— ander Poe? He says just quit that ukelele and play on the old banjo, Those Honolulu jingles like the dog has had its day. Go put the faithful banjo down, put the ukelele away. Chorus: Way down upon the,—I’m coming, yes, I hear that music, oh, Put away that ukelele man, and play on the old banjo. 2. Put away that ukelele, bring me down the old banjo, Sing again for me the tunes I love, Swanee River and Old Black Joe, Then play for me those melodies my mother used to hum, That between each syncopating note, the banjo ' went “Tum, tum.” Chorus: Way down upon the, etc. [53] 138 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /thomas-h-b-walker-revelation-trial-and-exile-of-john-epics-1912-fiction.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | "Revelation, Trial and Exile of John Epics" Walker, Thomas H. B. 1912 fiction 2 | John, the beloved disciple, was the youngest of the Apostles. The son of Zebedee and Salome and brother of James the Great. It is supposed that he was religiously inclined when quite a boy, and as soon as his age permitted became a follower of the Harbinger of the gospel. 3 | 4 | While a disciple of John the Baptist, his soul was cheered one day to hear his master say "Behold the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world." 5 | 6 | Immediately he followed the Christ. 7 | 8 | From an expression once made by the blessed Jesus the Apostles got the impression that John would never die. John 21:22, 23. 9 | 10 | John was admitted with two other disciples into all the secret passages of the blessed Lord's life, and even at the last hour when Jesus was dying, before giving up the ghost he committed his mother for care and protection into the hands of John, who it is supposed labored in the ministry about Jerusalem, after our Saviour's crucifixion, for sixteen years, till Mary died. About A. D. 52, Gal. 2:3-9, Paul on his third journey met him at Jerusalem. It is supposed that he went to Ephesus about A. D. 65. 11 | 12 | It is related by Tertullian that John was carried to Rome, and placed in a kettle of oil, a more full ac¬ count of which is found in the verse of this little vol¬ ume in Book One. 13 | 14 | Eusebius and Irenaeus give an account of the writ¬ ing of the Revelation or Apocalypse during the later part of the reign of Domitian. 15 | 16 | It is supposed that John with many other prisoners were brought back-from the exile on Patmos in the Aegean sea during the reign of Nerva. 17 | 18 | He was the author of five books, viz.: the book bearing his name, three Epistles and the Revelation. 19 | 20 | He died at Ephesus during the reign of Trajan about the age of 96 or possibly 120, according to Suidas. 21 | 22 | JOHN PUT IN A KETTLE OF OIL AT ROME BY DOMITIAN AND THE DELIVERANCE. 23 | 24 | On the lonely Isle of Patmos, A servant of God Was sent in exile For preaching the Word. 25 | 26 | It was the disciple beloved, The son of Zebedee. 27 | 28 | The trio select of the Christ, The younger of the three. 29 | 30 | He was arrested for preaching Against wickedness and sin, And was led to prison By bloodthirsty men. 31 | 32 | He was thrust in a dungeon As dark as night; But his spirit was not crushed, For he saw a heavenly light. 33 | 34 | From Ephesus they brought him To the city of Rome, For appear he must Before the Emperor's, throne. 35 | 36 | The ruler in those days Was Domitian by name--A man of severity, Quite noted by fame. 37 | 38 | Spoke Domitian the ruler, In words quite severe: "Come nigh, ye stranger, Lend me your ear. 39 | 40 | "Art thou a follower Of him they call Christ; Who died on the cross, From the dead did rise? 41 | 42 | "Do you publish that fact When you know it wasn't true? 43 | 44 | None else have seen him--Not one but you. 45 | 46 | "Liar thou art; Die thou must; So odious thy doctrine Thou my soul disgust. 47 | 48 | "When lived ever man Who rose from the dead? 49 | 50 | Find history of book . 51 | 52 | Such thing ever said. 53 | 54 | "Or find me the man--Him I would see--That self-same hour Thou wouldst be free." 55 | 56 | John looked at Domitian, The proud Emperor of Rome; His face fairly twitched, He drew nearer the throne. 57 | 58 | "Liar thou called me, But liar I'm not; The place where they laid him, I know the spot. 59 | 60 | "I saw him quite dead, As your soldiers found; I followed the company; They put him under ground. 61 | 62 | "Him I again saw After rising from dead; I was filled with awe, I was almost afraid. 63 | 64 | "Then said he to Thomas, 'Push your hand in my side: You see I'm no ghost--I'm he that died.' "Thomas stepped forward. 65 | 66 | He said, 'Lord, I believe. . 67 | 68 | Sorry am I That thee I grieved.' "There was a crowd who saw him--Eleven in all--I tell thee the truth, Tho' the next minute I fall." 69 | 70 | But Domitian doubted; He trembled like a knave, And the disciple beloved To the mob he gave. 71 | 72 | He was led from the prison And convicted to die, In a caldron of oil That boiled on a fire. 73 | 74 | His skin was to be boiled Until the flesh left the bones. 75 | 76 | The verdict commanded The bones be boiled Till each joint was alone When this was all done The verdict was to be, To cast the caldron contents Into the Mgtan Sea. 77 | 78 | There the fishes would feast On the fisher of men, And the gospel of the Christ Would come to an end. 79 | 80 | To put John in the kettle A committee was made, And five wicked of the most wicked Formed the devil's brigade. 81 | 82 | How they did laugh As they thought of the bonus, And oh, how they giggled As they feasted on their honors. 83 | 84 | That they should be honored To kill the servant of God, To them was the greatest gift Their country could afford. 85 | 86 | With a rope in their hand His form they did tie, So that at the chaldron's bottom His body might lie. 87 | 88 | They said, "Your Christ deny or die! 89 | 90 | You have one hour more." 91 | 92 | John said, "Deny my Lord? Never! 93 | 94 | To death let me go!" 95 | 96 | In went the body With a drop and a bump, And out jumped the oil As the caldron caught the lump. 97 | 98 | The oil was as hot As the hottest of lead; Why, the men that it struck In a minute were dead. 99 | 100 | So happy is the story Tho' an adage, it goes, That at once all our friends don't die Neither all our foes. 101 | 102 | So of the fire brigade, While three did die, Two were left to receive This honor so high. 103 | 104 | So they exulted over the thought As warriors do, Forgetting the dead they lose If they can only kill you. 105 | 106 | They busied themselves, Tho' they were with heat but smothered, And never once stopped Till the kettle was covered. 107 | 108 | Oh look, my dear reader; It makes my heart ache, For as they pulled out their dead They began the fire to rake. 109 | 110 | And as they piled on the wood Around the great oil can, They looked like demons Lynching a man. 111 | 112 | For hours and hours This heating did last, Until they thought the boiling Had finished its task. 113 | 114 | But there is a God--They had forgotten His name--The God who heard the Hebrews On Dura's plains. 115 | 116 | The God who sleeps neither night Nor in the longest day, But in the rule of this world Must have His way. 117 | 118 | As Daniel was made to sleep On a lion's mane, John was saved from all hurt That came from the flames. 119 | 120 | The ordinary man by the oil Would have drowned; But God is the same On the water or ground. 121 | 122 | When through water or fire, Or evils much less, His only command, "Put thy trust in Him, And lean on His breast." 123 | 124 | When the top was removed They were very much astonied To see the face of their martyr Shine as the sun. 125 | 126 | And with no invitation from them That was found He caught the side of the caldron And leaped to the ground. 127 | 128 | And just like his Master, God's own dear Son, He began preaching the gospel To them, every one. 129 | 130 | He preached with such power At first they felt glad, But when they thought of their defeat They got angry, yea mad. 131 | 132 | They then rushed upon him And with one man's cry They said, "We will now see you perish, Or we'll every one die." 133 | 134 | BOOK TWO. 135 | 136 | THE SECOND TRIAL; If time would permit me In just a little while I will tell thee the story Of John's second trial. 137 | 138 | He was brought from prison, Where he stayed a full week, While his foes o'er his destruction Did puzzle and seek. 139 | 140 | Thus spoke each of the rulers As it came their turn, "No heat can hurt him As he fire will not burn." 141 | 142 | All laughed and made grimaces, As they their heads did pound: "Why, you certainly can't hurt him, For he water will not drown. 143 | 144 | One said, "You can't kill him: This we have all found. 145 | 146 | You could not stop him from breathing, Tho' he was buried under ground." 147 | 148 | Another said, "What heat can't harm, No sword can stick, And like Achilles of Troy He certainly is a trick. 149 | 150 | "What my opinion is, From my heart I say, You just as well loose him And let him go his way. 151 | 152 | They then spoke to the prisoner--Demanded of him why He could not stop his errors And this Christ deny. 153 | 154 | John looked at the men, Lightning flashed from his eyes, For this question burnt him Far more than the fire. 155 | 156 | "What! deny my dear Lord? 157 | 158 | My Savior and friend, Upon whom all my trust And my hope depend? 159 | 160 | "No never! No never! 161 | 162 | Till the sun leaves his place, Till the last son of Adam Has died in the race; "Till the stars and moon Fade and grow dim, And the heavens grow old, I'll not deny Him! 163 | 164 | "He is my salvation, My hope from the fall; I will preach to the nation, For he loves them all." 165 | 166 | John paused a second, And he was melted to tears, And to them he preached Without dread or fear. 167 | 168 | He told of the Christ Whom they had just crucified, Who suffered for all men On the cross when He died. 169 | 170 | How He conquered old death, Even hell and the grave, And rose with all power His people to save. 171 | 172 | As he told the story of Jesus, The whole court agreed That John seemed quite honest, And he should be freed. 173 | 174 | But up stood an old man That the devil had taught, And from the breast of the judges Drove the good thought. 175 | 176 | He said, "Gentlemen, to kill John Is now plain to me: We will exile him Far into the ^Egeah Sea. 177 | 178 | "As sure as I speak, Believe me, if you will, Some fowl or beast Him surely will kill. 179 | 180 | "If these do not kill him, Pray tell me his salvation; For he surely will die From the dent of starvation It took but a moment And they all did agree. 181 | 182 | They led the servant of God To the edge of the sea, Where a boat had been mooring Since the rise of the sun; They, it employed To make the great run. 183 | 184 | .Now into its cabin The prisoner was led, And across the blue waters How swiftly it sped. 185 | 186 | In a silent tone, To the prisoner in the toil, It seemed to say, "You can't escape me, Tho' you did the hot oil. 187 | 188 | "I take thee to exile, I take thee to death, And as far as your preaching, You all people have left. 189 | 190 | "You go to an island In tlje archipelago That is as hard as the reefs That hug the seashore; "Where the land is sandy and rocky, By man never tilled; And other prisoners have died As you surely will." 191 | 192 | The sailors at him laughed, For they worked for their hire. 193 | 194 | They said, "You never will return Unless Domitian should die.*" 195 | 196 | *It is thought by some of the best historians that John was exiled during the reign of Domitian and brought back during Nerva's reign. 197 | 198 | But John remained firm, He never once complained; He knew his Lord protected Those who trusted His name. 199 | 200 | With his arms folded He walked the floor of the ship, Praying to his God, Tho' he moved not his lips. 201 | 202 | "Whatever is thy will, Oh Lord, let it be done. 203 | 204 | Let me please Thee, dear Father: Am I not thy son? 205 | 206 | "From the caldron Thou saved, And Thou led me from jail; To deliver Thy servants Thou never has failed." 207 | 208 | Now on the next day, At the setting of the sun, To Patmos Island The little bark comes. 209 | 210 | The width was a mile and a half, With a little crook, and then Eleven miles long From end to end. 211 | 212 | To get along with the story In the shortest delay They threw John on the bank And sailed away. 213 | 214 | BOOK THREE. 215 | 216 | I. CHAPTER REVELATION. 217 | 218 | HE IS THROWN ON THE ISLAND, BUT SEES A VISION. 219 | 220 | Now on reaching the island It happened this way, That the time that they landed Was the Seventh Day. 221 | 222 | He walked down the island. 223 | 224 | I think I am quite right When I say the day was gone And it was far in the night. 225 | 226 | In our modern times, With our pomp and power, Our days begin At the midnight hour. 227 | 228 | With our ancient fathers Their days begun At the twilight hour Or the setting of the sun. 229 | 230 | Now in those times the apostles Were so holy in their ways That for Sabbath worship They devoted two days. 231 | 232 | One was the Seventh, As every one knows, And the other was the day That the dear Lord arose. 233 | 234 | As the good Book tells In a very vivid way, John was kneeling in prayer On the Holy Lord's Day. 235 | 236 | Behind him spoke a voice as a trump. 237 | 238 | John turned to look. 239 | 240 | It said, "What thou seest Write in a book. 241 | 242 | "To let them know that you yet live Tho' the world tries to besmirch us, Write this Revelation letter To all the seven churches. 243 | 244 | "To Smyrna and Pergamura, Sardis, Thyatira and Ephesus, Laodicea and Philadelphia, And tell them I Jesus, "Your Savior and friend, Who in all ages doth live, Remain as anxious as ever Their sins to forgive." 245 | 246 | Amid seven golden candle sticks He saw the Son of Man, Holding seven bright stars In His right hand. 247 | 248 | As pure white wool Did appear His hair, And as the noonday sun Shone His face more fair. 249 | 250 | From His head to feet A stately garment was flung, And a golden girdle Around his waist was strung. 251 | 252 | His eyes like a flame of fire, Out his mouth came a sword; Like burnished brass Were the feet of the Lord. 253 | 254 | John became dumbfounded, Fell at His feet; For awhile as one dead, He lost, his speech. 255 | 256 | Christ said, "Get up, John;" 257 | 258 | With His hand touched him. 259 | 260 | "I am Alpha, Omega, The beginning and end." 261 | 262 | "I am the living one, was dead, And am alive evermore. 263 | 264 | I cany the keys of death And of Hades below. 265 | 266 | "I shall open a mystery Now unto thee, Of the Past and the Present, And whatever shall be. 267 | 268 | "The seven candle sticks My churches they are, The angels of the churches Are the seven stars. 269 | 270 | CHAPTER II. 271 | 272 | JOHN IS COMMANDED TO WRITE UNTO THE CHURCHES. 273 | 274 | "Write thou a letter To the Ephesian Church: Their toil and patience I know are much. 275 | 276 | "How they opposed apostles false Selling themselves to the devil, And, in the fight grew weary not As they try to stop evil. 277 | 278 | "Tho' thou wert faithful, Against thee I have aught Because thou didst not continue Thy loving walk. 279 | 280 | "Remember whence thou art fallen, Renew thy love; Do thy first work, repent, Else thy candle I move. 281 | 282 | "What the Spirit saith to the churches Ye that hath an ear hear: Thou art blessed that overcometh, You need not fear. 283 | 284 | "Thou shalt eat the luscious fruit That grow in Paradise, That is found in God's orchard Of the tree of life." 285 | 286 | Write to the church of Smyrna, These things saith the first and last, Who was dead yet lives again, And has lived all in the past. 287 | 288 | I know thy poverty and tribulation, Blasphemy is Satan's part; How in prison they'll cast thee, But rich indeed thou art. 289 | 290 | Until death be thou faithful And a crown of life I'll give; The second death shall hurt thee not, Overcome and with me live. 291 | 292 | To the angel of Pergamum Saith He that hath the two-edge sword, I know thou Iivest where Satan builds Up his throne against my word. 293 | 294 | Thou my faith did not deny, My name thou didst hold fast. 295 | 296 | Tho' they martyred of thy number My faithful Antipas. 297 | 298 | But a few things hold I against thee, Thou the doctrine of Balaam taught, And some have practiced fornication, Almost brought my work to naught. 299 | 300 | Blot thou out the Nicolaetans And stop the practice of sorcery; Repent thou quickly, else I come And with my mouth make war on thee. 301 | 302 | He that hath an ear, oh hear! 303 | 304 | What the Spirit says to the churches, Overcome, get hidden manna, And a stone most white and precious. 305 | 306 | Upon that stone a new name written, I my name on it inscribe, None can know it but he that receives it. 307 | 308 | It will make thee sanctified. 309 | 310 | Write to the angel of Thyatira, Thus saith the Son of God, I know thy works, faith and ministry, Thy patience and thy love. 311 | 312 | Thou hast my commendation Of the last work I see of you; For it shows much improvement On the first that thou didst do. 313 | 314 | I have this against thee: Thou suffered Jezebel To seduce many of my children, And are leading them to hell. 315 | 316 | Of the reins and heart of poor man The searcher am I; I note the actions of each one Who lives in Thyatira. 317 | 318 | Ye hold fast till I come And my work keep to the end, I'll give thee authority over nations, And thou shalt conquer sin. 319 | 320 | As received I of my Father, I will give thee the morning star, Thus saith the Spirit to the churches, Let him hear that has an ear. 321 | 322 | LETTERS CONTINUED. 323 | 324 | Write the angel of the Church of Sardis, God's seven Spirit at my command, I'm he that liveth and art dead, I hold seven stars in my right hand. 325 | 326 | Revive now thy dying embers, Thy imperfection has been my grief; If thou repent and watcheth not On thee I will come as a thief. 327 | 328 | A few names yet are in Sardis That shall see the heaven bright; They are worthy to be honored; They shall walk with me in white. 329 | 330 | In life's book his name shall stand; For I know he did his best, Before my Father and the angels I his name will confess. 331 | 332 | To the church in Philadelphia Saith the Holy One that's true. 333 | 334 | To open and shut, and shut and open No other one as I can do. 335 | 336 | Now I place an open door That I set before thine eye, My word thou kept with a little power, And did not once my name deny. 337 | 338 | Because thou kept my word steadfastly In hours of triads I'll keep thc-e. 339 | 340 | Keep thy crown, I come quickly, Thou my glory soon shall see. 341 | 342 | Overcome and a pillar in the temple Of my Lord thou wilt be, Out no more thou shalt go, But singing praise thy work shall be. 343 | 344 | My new name upon him I'll write, And the name of our God, New Jerusalem as well, I will be his Savior and Lord. 345 | 346 | To Laodicea write saith amen, The faithful and witness true, The beginning of God's creation, I know the work that thou do. 347 | 348 | Thou art neither cold nor hot, I would thou wert as one should be, Because lukewarm thou insist, From my mouth I'll spew thee. 349 | 350 | Thou think thou art rich When thou art poor, very poor indeed, Thou art blind, miserable and deceived, And in the very direst need. 351 | 352 | I counsel thee to buy of me Refined gold that's all right; Hide thy nakedness with my garments That are fine, pure and white. 353 | 354 | Behold at the door I stand and knock, I am knocking now for thee; If any man will let me in With him I'll sup and he with me. 355 | 356 | And he that overcometh Shall sit upon a throne, As I sit with my Father, Who rules the world alone. 357 | 358 | Thus closed the letters to seven churches, In all ages they cover From century to century unfurling The mysteries of our elder brother. 359 | 360 | HE SEES THE MYSTERIOUS THRONE, ETC. 361 | 362 | John saw, and behold an open door Iq heaven was standing wide, A trumpet voice proclaimed to him, If thou would see come nigh. 363 | 364 | I will show thee things that must come To pass of a very great merit, And straightway when I caught his words I fell into the spirit. 365 | 366 | I saw in heaven like a pyramid A shining, dazzling throne, And brighter still was the form Of him that sat thereon. 367 | 368 | He looked like a Jasper, or Sardius stone With such beautiful, radiant fair, The light that sparkled about the throne Just like an emerald shone, Or rainbow in the air. 369 | 370 | There were four and twenty thrones That circled His around, And on these thrones elders sat Who had on golden crowns. 371 | 372 | Their garments were white, as burning light, Spirits of God, were seven all in number. 373 | 374 | And a sea of glass was before the throne, And there were lightning and thunder. 375 | 376 | Four curious beasts as ne'er were seen, Full of eyes before and behind, Faces like a calf, eagle, lion and man, Crying "Holy, thrice holy all the time."' Six wings did have each cherubim, Wings covered with eyes like feathers, They cried Lord, God Almighty thou art, Was, and shall be forever and ever. 377 | 378 | When those beasts give thanks and honor, And glory to Him on high, Upon their faces fall the four and twenty, And all begin to cry: "Thou art worthy, 0 Lord, my God, To receive honor, glory and power, For all things hast thou created For thy pleasure even now." 379 | 380 | THE BOOK CONTAINING THE MORTGAGE. 381 | 382 | The one that sat upon the throne Had a book in His right hand, Written within and seven times sealed, A mortgage against poor man. 383 | 384 | With a strong loud voice an angel proclaimed "Who is worthy to open the book; Its seals to loose, the debt to pay, Or even on it look. 385 | 386 | ""He searched heaven and sky, Even hell and underground, With discontent he left each; For no one could be found." 387 | 388 | And when John saw that none was found He began to cry and weep, "With drooping wings the angel returned, And around the throne did seek. 389 | 390 | An elder cried, "Weep not, John, In Judah's tribe is revealed Of Jesse's line and David's stem Comes one who'll open the seals." 391 | 392 | John turned and looked toward the throne, His weeping was in vain; He saw the Lamb to open the Book--Emanuel was His name. 393 | 394 | Seven eyes had he, and upon his head He had seven horns, And from the blood upon his form It seemed he many scars had borne. 395 | 396 | The Lamb took the Book out of Justice's hand And loosened every seal; He paid the debt as was commanded, His people He redeemed. 397 | 398 | The way this Book was opened, It was stated in this form--'Twas a mystery of salvation, And again we must be born. 399 | 400 | When the Lamb took the Book Before Him four beasts and elders fell, There were such music and songs That it shook the gates of hell. 401 | 402 | You say from whence the harps came On which the elders play, On this the writ is silent, The good Book doesn't say. 403 | 404 | Ferhaps they were just created, I see no other way; For they certainly at the Lamb's reception Had golden harps to play. 405 | 406 | Each elder had a golden vial That was full of the sweetest odor, And while they sung a'new, new song Each emptied his vial in order. 407 | 408 | The vials held the Prayer of Saints, , That went up from old earth, Mixed with sadness, sorrow, pain, Groans, and maybe a little mirth. 409 | 410 | When the elders played and four beasts sung, Music swept heaven as a flood, From all kindred, tongues, nations and people Came kings and priests to God. 411 | 412 | John said when the Lamb took his seat Ten thousand angels he saw, And thousands of thousands cried so loud That he was filled with awe. 413 | 414 | In unison went the voices high, They cried naught but one name--All wisdom, riches, strength and glory Receive thou worthy Lamb was slain. 415 | 416 | In heaven, in sea, in earth beneath, • All forms of creatures prayed, "Worthy the Lamb who was slain," 417 | 418 | Were all they sung or said. 419 | 420 | "Amen!" then the four beasts said, The four and twenty elders bowed. 421 | 422 | And said, "We worship thee, Thou Lamb was slain, The way that we know how." 423 | 424 | They threw their crowns before the throne. 425 | 426 | And bowed to worship him, With far more adoration Than ever was known to men. 427 | 428 | Worthy art thou, 0 Lamb, said they, To receive honor, glory, power, Created all things by thee for thy pleasure: Accept our praise this hour. 429 | 430 | (THE OPENING OF THE SEALS.) HORSES COMING FORTH REPRESENTING ALL AGES OF CHRISTIANITY. 431 | 432 | When the Lamb opened a seal It sounded as thunder unto me. 433 | 434 | One of the four beasts saying, "Come now, John, and see." 435 | 436 | And saw I a horse come forth, A white color pure; He that sat upon his back In his hand held a bow. 437 | 438 | Much interest was centered on him By those who stood around, As conquering unto conquest went, When he received his crown. 439 | 440 | Oh church of God so pure, In those apostles' time, No little mean and narrow things Did ever affect their mind. 441 | 442 | Each brother honored his brother first, They all in common lived; The ri;h, the poor, and everyone Unto the Lord did give. 443 | 444 | When he opened the second seal, The second beast said, "Come see, John." I looked And behold the horse was red. 445 | 446 | His rider was commissioned, Take from the earth its peace, War was to reign through all the world, North, west, south and east. 447 | 448 | Men were to slay each other. 449 | 450 | Blood like water flowed, For to the rider was given A great and sharp sword. 451 | 452 | Oh Lord, behold thy temple, Explain thy morning star. 453 | 454 | Does this change represent sin In division as we are? 455 | 456 | Do we give our brother A genuine revelation? 457 | 458 | Do we help thy cause By many denominations? 459 | 460 | When he opened the third seal, The third beast then heard I, "Come and see;" I looked and saw A black horse passed me by. 461 | 462 | Balances were in his hand, His duties they were many, Three measures of barley or one of wheat Was he to give for a penny. 463 | 464 | Touch not the wine or the oil, For darker days will come; And in that time of dire distress You may then need some. 465 | 466 | When the Lamb opened the fourth seal It was another mystery; The fourth beast said to me, "Come, John, and see." 467 | 468 | I looked, and behold a rider, Death was his cognomen. 469 | 470 | The horse he rode was pale, And hell followed him. 471 | 472 | They went forth, those partners, To destroy all joy and mirth, With hunger, sword, death and beast, They were to kill a fourth Of the inhabitants of earth. 473 | 474 | When the fifth seal was opened, Under the altar were the slain Of those who held the testimony Of the dear Jehovah's name. 475 | 476 | They were killed for praising God And preaching his holy Word "How long, 0 Lord, Holy One?" 477 | 478 | Was the cry I heard. 479 | 480 | "How long, dear Lord, how long, Judgest thou not sinful men, That dwellest on the earth And avenge our blood on them." 481 | 482 | White robes were then given To them every one; They were to await their fellow servants And brethren to come. 483 | 484 | They too should be slain, Like them should be killed, But a little season they should wait 'Twould then be fulfilled. 485 | 486 | For soon they would join their loved ones Around that glorious throne And always chant holy praise, As they their Saviour owned. 487 | 488 | When the sixth seal was opened, I beheld, and lo, There was a great earthquake, And a mighty uproar. 489 | 490 | The sun was dark as sackcloth black, The moon became as blood, The stars of heaven fell to earth, And covered the ground as a flood. 491 | 492 | They fell like Sgs untimely fall By a storm forced through the air. 493 | 494 | The heavens departed as a scroll, Confusion was everywhere. . 495 | 496 | The mountains moved from their place, The islands quit their bed, The wicked hid in dens and rocks As they from Jehovah fled. 497 | 498 | "Hide, O hide us/' thus they cried, "From Jehovah's face. 499 | 500 | Undone, undone, undone are we If we have tasted net his grace." 501 | 502 | They cried to the rocks and to the mountain "Mountain, hide thou me." 503 | 504 | Thus cried the great, the poor and small, The rich and bond and free. 505 | 506 | "Hide me from the Lamb's face, Hide me if you can, For the great day of his wrath is comer And who shall be able to stand?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /Carrie-Williams-Clifford-Race-Rhymes-1911-Poetry.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | Race Rhymes 2 | 3 | By Carrie Williams Clifford 4 | Washington DC 5 | 6 | 1911 7 | 8 | Contents 9 | 10 | To My Mother 11 | Preface 12 | America 13 | A Reply to Thomas Dixon 14 | Atlanta's Shame 15 | The Jim Crow Car 16 | Shall We Fight the Jim Crow Car? 17 | The Singer and the Song (To Paul Laurence Dunbar) 18 | Lines to Garrison 19 | Foraker and the Twenty-Fifth 20 | All Hail! Ye Colored Graduates 21 | Duty's Call 22 | Marching to Conquest 23 | My Baby (On Reading 'Souls of Black Folk.') 24 | Character or Color -- Which? 25 | The Dreamers 26 | We'll Die for Liberty 27 | 28 | 29 | To My Mother 30 | 31 | Mother, Mother, how I loved thee! 32 | And I know thou lov'dst me well; 33 | But the gentle Saviour called thee 34 | Home on high with saints to dwell. 35 | 36 | Mother, gentlest of all creatures. 37 | Patient, noble, just serene; 38 | To me thou wert perfect, ideal; 39 | Equal of thine, ne'er was seen. 40 | 41 | Thou art gone! but not forgot by 42 | Her who loved thee here on earth, 43 | Mine the sorrow, but for thee of 44 | Heavenly joy there is no dearth. 45 | 46 | So I smile in resignation. 47 | And repress the bitter pain 48 | Since my great loss for a brief space, 49 | Is for thee, eternal gain. 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | Preface 54 | 55 | In giving to the world this brochure, the author makes no claim to unusual poetic excellence or literary brilliance. She is seeking to call attention to a condition which she, at least, considers serious. Knowing that this may often be done more impressively through rhyme than in an elegant prose dissertation, she has taken this method of accomplishing the end sought. 56 | Each poem has been called forth by some significant event or condition in the history of the Negro in America. The theme of the group here presented -- the uplift of humanity -- is the loftiest that can animate the heart and pen of man; the treatment, she trusts, is not wholly unworthy. Remembering the good that has been accomplished by such familiar poems as 'The Prisoner for Debt,' 'The Song of the Shirt,' and similar ones, she sends these lines forth with the prayer that they may chance some evil heart, right some wrong and raise some arm strong to deliver. 57 | 58 | C.W.C. 59 | 60 | 61 | America 62 | 63 | America is not another name for opportunity 64 | To all her sons! Nay, bid me not be dumb — 65 | I will be heard. Christians, I come 66 | To plead with burning eloquence of truth 67 | A brother's cause; ay, to demand, forsooth, 68 | The manhood rights of which he is denied; 69 | Too long your pretense have your acts belied. 70 | 71 | What has he done to merit your fierce hate? 72 | I charge you, speak the truth; for know, his fate 73 | Irrevocably is bound up with yours, 74 | For good or ill, as long as time endures. 75 | Torn from his native home by ruthless hands, 76 | For centuries he tilled your fruitful lands, 77 | In shameful, base, degrading slavery; 78 | Your humble, patient, loyal vassal, he — 79 | Piling your coffers high with magic gold, 80 | Himself, the while, like cattle bought and sold. 81 | 82 | When devastating war stalked through the land, 83 | And dangers threatened you on every hand, 84 | These sons whose color you cannot forgive. 85 | Did freely shed their blood that you might live 86 | A nation, strong and great. And will you then 87 | Continue to debase, degrade, contemn 88 | Your loyal children, while with smiling face 89 | You raise disloyal ones to power and place? 90 | 91 | Is race or color crime, that for this cause 92 | You draft against the Negro unjust laws? 93 | Is race or color sin that he should be 94 | For these things treated so outrageously? 95 | O, boastful, white American, beware! 96 | It is the handiwork of God you dare 97 | Thus to despise and He will you repay 98 | With generous measure overflowing, yea, 99 | For all the good which in his life you've wrought. 100 | For helpful deed, or kindly, loving thought — 101 | For every act of cruelty you've done, 102 | For every groan which you have from him wrung. 103 | For every infamy by him endured, 104 | He will you all repay, be thou assured! 105 | Not here alone ere time shall cease to be, 106 | But likewise There, through all eternity. 107 | 108 | A Reply to Thomas Dixon 109 | 110 | We are rising, we are coming! 111 | See, the foeman's face grows pale; 112 | He to check our progress onward 113 | Spreads abroad this scandalous tale 114 | 115 | "Black men are not white men's equal 116 | All unworthy's the black race; 117 | Savage, soulless, scarcely human. 118 | Doomed forever to servile place." 119 | 120 | Shall such foul aspersions daunt us. 121 | Will we weaken in our fight? 122 | Never! Fighting, we will die for 123 | Justice, God and human right. 124 | 125 | We hurl back the defamation. 126 | Confound theory with fact. 127 | Prove by thought, by word, by deed. 128 | The falseness of the vile attack. 129 | 130 | There is earnest work before us, 131 | There are giants to o'ercome. 132 | Satan's angels to be vanquished. 133 | Grievous wrong to be undone. 134 | 135 | So we press undaunted forward. 136 | So we plunge into the fray. 137 | Rouse the timid lagging rearward. 138 | Point them to the breaking day! 139 | 140 | Will success perch on our banner. 141 | Which we struggle to hold high? 142 | From the valiant hosts who follow 143 | Comes a ringing, firm, "Ay, ay !" 144 | 145 | 146 | 147 | Atlanta's Shame 148 | 149 | In queenly state she sits at the gateway of the South — 150 | And lifts with conscious pride her stately head : 151 | Fair Atlanta feels her worth, and her children are elate, 152 | As thro' her streets they go with happy tread. 153 | 154 | She has sons of many kinds, she has sons of many hues, 155 | And she says she cares for all, but this we know, 156 | Tho' she exacts of each alike service, revenue, respect, 157 | The blacks get of her favor but scant show! 158 | 159 | Yet the harder do they strive her good will and grace to win. 160 | Keeping step with progress — forward without pause! 161 | Gaining knowledge, getting wealth, doing all things duly meet. 162 | Hoping thus to gain Atlanta's prized applause. 163 | 164 | But alas! 'tis all in vain, for she hates with bitter hate 165 | These poor blacks who aye remind her of her shames; 166 | Of her greed for wealth and power, of her base consuming lust: 167 | Noble striving but the more her wrath inflames. 168 | 169 | Then to hide from honest eyes her blood-guiltiness and sin, 170 | She most cunningly contrives a wicked plot — 171 | Subtly spoken a base word, then this cry against the blacks 172 | Cleaves the night ! "Revenge! lynch, slaughter and spare not!" 173 | 174 | Three awful nights she reveled in a carnival of crime, 175 | Three days or e'er the tension was relieved; 176 | When her thirst for blood was sated, the whole nation stood aghast. 177 | Her cry of "Rape," no more the world deceived! 178 | 179 | Lamentations, bitter sobs, heart-wrung groans the soft winds bore 180 | Thro' the streets where lay the victims of her rage; 181 | Helpless age and guiltless youth, innocence and trusting truth — 182 | It had taken all, her fury to assuage. 183 | 184 | Dread Atlanta nevermore can the crimson stain erase, 185 | Nor the foul blot wipe from off fair history's scroll ; 186 | This fell deed shall e'er arise, ghost-like from the mists of time 187 | To confront and terrify her guilty soul! 188 | 189 | 190 | The Jim Crow Car 191 | 192 | Of all things iniquitous that evil could devise, 193 | A thing that men of honor very justly must despise, 194 | An institution infamous and more degrading far 195 | Than aught I know of, fellow-men, this is the Jim Crow car. 196 | 197 | The good, the bad, the criminal are herded there together; 198 | Just so the skin is dark, no white would deign to question whether 199 | The heart beneath was pure as gold or was with guilt allied; 200 | Not worth but color designates the place where one must ride. 201 | 202 | He may have built, of modern times, the greatest institution 203 | For training hands; or may be of the vilest destitution 204 | A perfect sample; but tho' he be artist, brute or sage. 205 | It nothing counts, he goes if black into the "Jim Crow" cage. 206 | 207 | He may have won prized scholarships from greatest schools of learning. 208 | The fire of genius in his soul with mighty brilliance burning ; 209 | His culture and attainments may indeed be on a par 210 | With earth's greatest souls, but he, if black, must seek the "Jim Crow" car. 211 | 212 | And shall the strong be e'er deceived with thought that might makes right? 213 | And shall the weak forever yield God-given right to might? 214 | Nay! think not, puny man, to alter one of God's fixed laws. 215 | For sure as darkness follows light, effect must follow cause. 216 | 217 | And sure as nations disregard God's changeless plan divine 218 | To justly deal, show mercy, love and service intertwine. 219 | So surely will his judgment fall with vengeance swift and true. 220 | On all who seek to thwart His will, His mandates to eschew. 221 | 222 | And in His gracious message left to comfort breaking hearts 223 | He promises to rescue all from Satan's fiery darts 224 | Who keep His law: there, too, we find the blest assurance given 225 | There'll be no caste distinctions in the glorious realm of heaven. 226 | 227 | Nor bond nor free, nor Greek nor Jew, Barbarian. Scythian there; 228 | For all are one in Christ, all children of His loving care; 229 | And when at last His little ones have crossed life's moaning bar, 230 | They'll ride in golden chariots, not in a "Jim Crow" car. 231 | 232 | 233 | Shall We Fight the Jim Crow Car? 234 | 235 | Comes the question, loud, insistent. 236 | Borne upon the winds afar, 237 | In the ears of black men ringing — 238 | 'Shall we fight the Jim Crow car?" 239 | 240 | Mounts the hot blood to the forehead, 241 | Angry passions leap to life 242 | At remembered wrongs committed 243 | 'Gainst a mother, sister, wife. 244 | 245 | And the milk of human kindness 246 | In the proud heart turns to gall: 247 | Is not every hand against them, 248 | Every ear deaf to their call? 249 | 250 | Disregarded all entreaties, 251 | Stern protests unheeded are ; 252 | Impotent words or achievements, 253 | To remove the color-bar. 254 | 255 | Shall such base, unworthy treatment 256 | Be by brave men tamely borne 257 | And the title "Non-resistant," 258 | As a badge of honor worn? 259 | 260 | No; by heaven, they swear it, swear it! 261 | List ye, farthest glitt'ring star. 262 | Ten thousand black men shout in chorus, 263 | "We will fight the Jim Crow car." 264 | 265 | The Singer and the Song (To Paul Laurence Dunbar) 266 | 267 | For oh, his song was so sad to hear ! 268 | He sang of the millions who live in fear; 269 | Of those who in anguish and patient pain. 270 | Struggle for freedom but struggle in vain. 271 | 272 | For oh, his song was so sweet to hear; 273 | It fell like balm on the listening ear; 274 | It told of bright skies, fragrant flowers, green trees, 275 | And of God the Almighty — Creator of these. 276 | 277 | For oh, his song was so blithe and gay, 278 | "I will not hold my just anger alway; 279 | Tremble ye wicked ones!" Assurance blest. 280 | And hope brought the song to these children oppressed. 281 | 282 | For oh, his song was sublime, sublime! 283 | A glorious burst of music divine; 284 | "He whose endurance shall last to the end. 285 | On him shall heaven's choicest blessings descend." 286 | 287 | So ever he sang as he journeyed along. 288 | Cheering the faint heart, rebuking the wrong. 289 | Preaching to all the sweet gospel of love; 290 | Teaching of Jesus who reigneth above. 291 | But the singer grew weary and sank down to rest, 292 | Where he sleeps for a space, folded close to the breast 293 | Of old Mother Earth, the song stilled for a day. 294 | But our hearts to its music will vibrate alway. 295 | 296 | 297 | Lines to Garrison 298 | 299 | Read at his centenary celebration, Cleveland, Ohio. 300 | 301 | Ah, dark and grim and direful were those days, 302 | For cursed was our fair land, and torn with cries 303 | And groanings loud and terrible, of man 304 | Oppressed and tortured by his brother man. 305 | The poor, black, naked slave was worked and whipped 306 | And scourged; held, bought and sold as chattel 307 | At the behest of him who styled himself his owner; 308 | His body, mind, yea e'en his very soul 309 | Was held by cruel masters to belong to them! 310 | "How long,' O Lord, how long?" wailed these despairing ones. 311 | As Slavery's cruel bonds grew stronger day by day, 312 | More loathsome and unbearable! 313 | While thus they agonized in prayer, beseeching 314 | God, the father, for relief from this 315 | Distressed and pitiful estate, lo! 316 | Suddenly from out the mists of chaos 317 | And confusion, rose a voice commanding. 318 | Clear, loud-crying, "I am in earnest — 319 | I will not equivocate — I will not 320 | Retreat a single inch — And I will be heard!" 321 | It was the voice of one who hated slavery 322 | As he hated nothing else on earth ; 323 | It was the voice of one, who advocated 324 | Freedom for all men. 325 | It was the voice of Garrison, the brave, 326 | Which sounded clear above the tumult, saying — 327 | "Tyrants as all hist'ry shows, must be destroyed!" 328 | Alarm fell on the sleek, complacent master. 329 | The quiet advocate of abolition likewise started! 330 | Dared he thus boldly agitate for right. 331 | Dared he thus forcibly denounce the wrong? 332 | A nation listened breathless! 333 | Again the voice came ringing, firm, emphatic — 334 | "Are we enough to make a revolution? 335 | No, but we are enough, one to begin; 336 | And once begun it cannot be turned back! 337 | I am for revolution, were I utterly alone; 338 | I am there because I must be there; 339 | I cannot choose but obey the voice of God!'' 340 | It was enough ! A Christian nation could not, 341 | Would not listen to the voice of God. 342 | The South cried for his blood; 343 | In Boston he was mobbed; dragged thro' the streets 344 | A rope around his neck, because, forsooth. 345 | He dared to speak for Freedom, Justice, Right. 346 | But brute force cannot thrust Truth down. 347 | Nor mobs with ropes o'ercome it. 348 | 349 | Tho' cast in prison 350 | Mocked at, jeered, yet Garrison, the great. 351 | Ceased not to plead the cause of the despised slave. 352 | He aroused a nation from its lethargy! 353 | The North viewed with dismay, the horrid beast 354 | The haughty South was nursing in its breast; 355 | Should this foul thing besmirch Columbia's name? 356 | Should free America, home of the brave. 357 | Become a noissome prison house for slaves! 358 | Not if the trenchant pen or mighty voice 359 | Of Garrison, the noble, could prevent. 360 | By day, by night, in season, out — he passionately 361 | Pleaded for his enslaved countrymen. 362 | So bold a leader could not long lack friends. 363 | Soon honest men became his staunch allies. 364 | The few, became a host! The little stream 365 | Became a flood, resistless, strong, compelling! 366 | The climax came 367 | In a supreme outburst of blood and carnage. 368 | The strife was fierce, the struggle desperate; 369 | But. glory be to God, the chains were snapped. 370 | The slaves were freed, and Garrison, immortalized! 371 | 372 | Peace to thy ashes. Honored Dead! 373 | We come today, thy grave to strew with flowers 374 | Of loving words, of honest praise; we come 375 | Ten million of thy countrymen 376 | Thy bier to consecrate with fragrant incense 377 | Welling up from grateful hearts! 378 | 379 | 380 | 381 | Foraker and the Twenty-Fifth 382 | 383 | Who helped Columbia win the day 384 | At San Juan Hill and El Carney, 385 | When brave men faltered in dismay? 386 | The Twenty-fifth. 387 | 388 | Who welcomed then, their timely aid, 389 | Since they to charge were not afraid, 390 | But at the foe like demons made? 391 | Colonel Roosevelt. 392 | 393 | And when the glorious deed was done. 394 | The battles fought and victory won, 395 | Who honor gave to her dark sons? 396 | The Nation. 397 | 398 | Who was it played the scurvy trick, 399 | Who gave the thrust with his Big Stick 400 | That turned br'ght day to darkness thick? 401 | Our President. 402 | 403 | Where is the place was struck the blow. 404 | The deadly, fatal, unjust blow 405 | Our soldier boys' proud heads bowed low? 406 | At Brownsville. 407 | 408 | Discharged without honor or proof of guilt 409 | Was this the goal toward which they'd built. 410 | The end for which their blood they'd spilt? 411 | O, mighty God! 412 | 413 | Charged with honor up San Juan Hill: 414 | Discharged without honor at dread Brownsville, 415 | Achieved so grandly — rewarded so ill. 416 | These patriots. 417 | 418 | And did no voice for justice cry, 419 | None dare assail the powers high 420 | That did the grievous wrong — none ? Ay, 421 | Brave Foraker. 422 | 423 | Alone he braved the mighty wrath. 424 | Alone he dared the lightning's path ; 425 | Ha! braver champion no man hath 426 | Than Foraker. 427 | 428 | Defied alone the soldiers' foes. 429 | Himself bared to the cowards' blows; 430 | The price so nobly paid God knows — 431 | And Foraker. 432 | 433 | He suffered in a righteous cause. 434 | Fought to uphold his country's laws. 435 | And won just men's thund'rous applause. 436 | Great Foraker. 437 | 438 | Wherever black men's hearts beat high 439 | For justice, honor, liberty. 440 | Nor name nor deed shall ever die. 441 | Of gallant J. B. Foraker. 442 | 443 | And if a race's steadfast love 444 | A race's loyalty can prove. 445 | No other name is loved above 446 | The name of Foraker. 447 | 448 | 449 | All Hail! Ye Colored Graduates 450 | 451 | Tune — "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name." 452 | 453 | All hail, ye colored graduates 454 | From college and from school; 455 | May high ideals each life inspire 456 | And service be its rule! 457 | 458 | Let ev'ry citizen and friend 459 | In our loved country wide, 460 | Join in our hearty song of praise 461 | And share our righteous pride. 462 | 463 | We bid you go as champions brave 464 | To fight for God and right; 465 | And bring to those who are oppressed 466 | Great Freedom's glorious light. 467 | 468 | You'll find the fields for harvest ripe, 469 | But laborers very few; 470 | Then forth with willing hearts and strong 471 | The evil to subdue. 472 | 473 | Discouragements will oft confront 474 | And seek to vanquish you; 475 | But know that naught on earth can thwart 476 | The man who WILLS to do. 477 | 478 | Then forward, onward, upward go! 479 | And as you boldly press 480 | Your way to life's exalted heights 481 | The Lord of Hosts will bless. 482 | 483 | 484 | Duty's Call 485 | 486 | Come, all ye women, come! 487 | Help 'till the work is done. 488 | Help to uplift! 489 | We must sin's blight remove, 490 | By deeds of kindness prove 491 | The wondrous power of love. 492 | God's greatest gift. 493 | 494 | We must remove the ban 495 | Placed on our fellow-man, 496 | Thro' Satan's power; 497 | Let us as one unite. 498 | Darkness and wrong to fight. 499 | Then will the glorious light 500 | Break in God's hour. 501 | 502 | 'Tis now, we must begin; 503 | If we our cause would win; 504 | The foe is strong; 505 | But we can make him quake. 506 | His forces swerve and break 507 | When we old earth shall shake 508 | With victory's song. 509 | 510 | 511 | Marching to Conquest 512 | 513 | We are battling for the right with purpose strong and true; 514 | 'Tis a mighty struggle, but we've pledged to dare and do; 515 | Pledged to conquer evil and we'll see the conflict thro' 516 | Marching and marching to conquest. 517 | 518 | All the noble things of life we'll teach our girls and boys, 519 | Warn them of its pitfalls and reveal its purest joys, 520 | Counsel, guide and keep them from the evil that destroys 521 | As we go marching to conquest. 522 | 523 | Loving confidence and trust must mark our intercourse, 524 | Harmony and unity will our success enforce ; 525 | Seeking guidance from the Lord of good, the boundless source, 526 | As we go marching to conquest. 527 | 528 | Come and join our anthem then and raise a mighty shout, 529 | Sing it with such fervor as will put our foes to rout, 530 | Sing it with conviction strong, dispelling every doubt, 531 | As we go marching to conquest. 532 | 533 | Women, when our work is o'er and we to rest have gone. 534 | May our efforts doubled, trebled, still go sweeping on. 535 | And the voices of millions swell the volume of our song. 536 | As they go marching to conquest. 537 | 538 | Chorus : 539 | Hurrah, hurrah, we'll shout the jubilee; 540 | Hurrah, hurrah, we'll set the captives free, 541 | Ignorance, distrust and hate at our approach shall flee. 542 | Marching and marching to conquest. 543 | 544 | 545 | My Baby (On Reading 'Souls of Black Folk.') 546 | 547 | Who loves my baby ? Ah, who loves him not, 548 | My beautiful baby, who lies fast asleep; 549 | His dimpled brown limbs softly press his white cot. 550 | And angels, God's messengers, guard o'er him keep. 551 | 552 | Who hates my baby? Ah. merciful God, 553 | Thy children — his brothers whose faces are white; 554 | "Black skin is a crime: pass thou under the rod," 555 | They cry ! "This is our country, and might makes us right." 556 | 557 | My baby ! immortal soul, dark tho' he be; 558 | Where shall I take him for safety and peace, 559 | Where in this land of the brave and the free 560 | Shall baby and I find of terror surcease? 561 | 562 | Justice, I ask for my baby is all, 563 | And freedom to grow and expand all his powers ; 564 | Then right give the verdict — to stand or to fall — 565 | While Hatred of Race before Righteousness cowers. 566 | 567 | Then, if my dark baby, unworthy be found, 568 | Incompetent, lustful, unfaithful or base, 569 | I'll abide by the verdict and utter no sound 570 | Agree that beneath is my dark baby's place. 571 | 572 | But glory to God! who my dark baby gave 573 | A mind, soul and being like unto his own 574 | And sent his dear son my brown baby to save 575 | From the seeds of corruption the Tempter has sown. 576 | 577 | Right my baby will place side by side with your child. 578 | And Right will erase from your heart that fierce hate; 579 | Will you bide by the verdict of Right? Will the wild 580 | And ignoble prejudice die e'er too late? 581 | 582 | For be thou assured, God's bright angels will guard 583 | My baby so brown, to the heavenly portal. 584 | White soul, not white face, shall there gain its reward. 585 | For Right keeps the gate to the City Immortal. 586 | 587 | 588 | Character or Color -- Which? 589 | 590 | What is blood, or what is birth? 591 | What is black or white? 592 | Or small or great, or rich or poor? 593 | Just so the man's all right? 594 | 595 | O, vain and haughty white man, why 596 | Of ancestry prate so? 597 | Can you in tracing your descent. 598 | Farther than Adam go? 599 | 600 | Why boast of culture ? Well you know. 601 | Ere to your present state 602 | Of progress and renown you'd come, 603 | (With statesmen wise and great — ) 604 | 605 | The blacks had splendidly achieved 606 | Long centuries before; 607 | Their monuments, unrivaled still, 608 | Adorn old Afric's shore. 609 | 610 | No adventitious circumstance 611 | Can fix a people's station. 612 | Integrity's the thing that counts 613 | In any man or nation. 614 | 615 | Then modestly let's run our course — 616 | All hist'ry tells the story: 617 | No race but has its page of shame. 618 | None lacks its page of glory. 619 | 620 | So what is blood or what is birth? 621 | What is black or white? 622 | Or great or small, or rich or poor. 623 | Just so the man's all right? 624 | 625 | 626 | The Dreamers 627 | 628 | "The Dreamers are the Saviours of the World." 629 | So ran the legend writ in letters bold, 630 | Upon a page whereon in idle hour, 631 | My listless gaze did chance to rest. Straightway 632 | A magic thrill thro' all my being ran 633 | And all my powers of mind became at once 634 | Instinct with leaping life. Again I gazed — 635 | Again with eagerness the page I scanned: 636 | Unchanged, the words still boldly graven there 637 | "The Dreamers are the Saviours of the World." 638 | "And can it be," I thought, this ancient page 639 | Doth to my own sweet wild imaginings 640 | Lend confirmation strong. Would this bright world 641 | Be but a barren waste, a wilderness; 642 | Its human creatures scarcely one remove 643 | From birds and beasts, and creeping, crawling things 644 | Instead of beings, as great God declared 645 | But little lower than the angels formed. 646 | Did not the Dreamer — Sculptor, Poet, Sage — 647 | Keep ever brightly burning life's ideals 648 | As beacon lights to comfort, cheer and guide 649 | The weary travelers o'er life's rugged way? 650 | Still motionless I sat, still pondered o'er 651 | The words this ancient tome did speak, dramatic 652 | And profound, as 'twere an oracle. 653 | The book, unheeded, fell from my lax hand. 654 | And back with lightning speed my fancy flew 655 | O'er space and time immense and limitless. 656 | Before mine eyes a panorama spread, 657 | Showing the great of earth since time began. 658 | I saw bold Caesar and Napoleon, 659 | St. Francis of Assisi, Socrates, 660 | Shakespeare and Froebel, Michael Angelo 661 | And all the sacred host of mighty dead. 662 | Before me moved the pageant of the years 663 | In ghostly pomp and grandeur. I saw again 664 | The youthful Joseph, Dreamer of Israel; 665 | Despised of his brethren, cursed and roughly used 666 | Because he dreamed the truth they could not grasp. 667 | And then, I saw the dream fulfilled, while they, 668 | The former scoffers, bent the suppliant knee, 669 | In silent tribute to the Dreamer's power. 670 | When busy Martha cumbered with much care 671 | Complained that Mary at the Saviour's feet 672 | In dreamland sat, the gentle Christ replied, 673 | "Mary hath chosen the better part." I saw 674 | Columbus, bold and unafraid, set out 675 | Upon an unknown sea his dream to find 676 | Come true. Douglass, the slave — the martyr, Brown, 677 | And Harriet Beecher Stowe, the prophetess, 678 | Each dreaming of a country free from rule 679 | Of grasping greed and heartless tyranny. 680 | In patience wrought, to bring to pass the dream 681 | Which men derided — called impossible: 682 | When lo! while yet they mocked, it came to pass! 683 | "Dreamers," I thought, whose dreams have changed the world! 684 | So must it ever be. The Dreamer comes 685 | In every age unvalued and condemned. 686 | The Doers trooping come, with boisterous haste 687 | Millions to one lone Dreamer: failing him, 688 | No single revolution of the wheel 689 | Of progress marks advance, for he alone 690 | Can move the world and bring a revelation. 691 | The true Idealist does not spend his time 692 | In vain and idle musings; nor does he flee 693 | Unfavorable conditions, as a slave. 694 | For quarters more secure and genial: 695 | But rather, he is one who patiently 696 | And often painfully his life doth shape 697 | Harmonious with an inward purpose true, 698 | Striving against cold materialism to make 699 | The glorious vision in whose light he lives 700 | Shine strong and bright before the eyes of men 701 | Whose sight less clear discerning is than his. 702 | 'Tis true that dreams are but the evidence 703 | Of things unseen — realities which all 704 | Shall one day see and know. Dream lofty dreams. 705 | And as you dream, O, Friend, shall you become 706 | What you desire, you shall obtain; and what 707 | You shall aspire unto you shall achieve. 708 | Your vision is the promise of what you 709 | Shall one day be; your ideal but the prophecy 710 | Of what you shall at last unveil! 711 | Then cherish well your vision, cherish fondly 712 | Your ideals. O great and noble Dreamer! 713 | 714 | 715 | We'll Die for Liberty 716 | 717 | We are children of oppression who are struggling to be free 718 | From injustice, and the galling yoke of color-tyranny; 719 | Our small band is facing bravely a relentless enemy. 720 | But we go fighting on. 721 | 722 | For liberty we'll bare our breasts, and this our cry shall be: 723 | ''Equal rights and equal justice, equal opportunity," 724 | Undaunted we will face the foe and fight right valiantly 725 | To victory marching on. 726 | 727 | In the name of Christ our Lord who suffered death upon the tree, 728 | And of the Constitution, our proud country's guarantee, 729 | And of the flag which over all should wave protectingly 730 | We'll strike for liberty. 731 | 732 | Thus strongly fortified in right we'll strive triumphantly. 733 | Till the glorious light of Freedom's torch shall flame from sea to sea; 734 | And all the children of our land shall dwell in amity, 735 | As Truth goes marching on. 736 | 737 | Then list, ye Sons of Morning, to a weaker brother's plea, 738 | And harken. Hosts of Darkness, to our Heaven-inspired decree : 739 | As He died to make men holy we will die for liberty, 740 | Thou, God, the issue keep. 741 | 742 | Chorus : Glory, glory, hallelujah! || 743 | We'll die for liberty! 744 | || Repeat three times. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /Pauline-E-Hopkins-Talma-Gordon-1900-fiction.txt: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | TALMA GORDON. 2 | 3 | PAULINE E. HOPKINS. 4 | 5 | 1900 6 | 7 | First published in Colored American Magazine 8 | 9 | 10 | The Canterbury Club of Boston was holding its regular monthly meeting at the palatial Beacon-street residence of Dr. William Thornton, expert medical practitioner and specialist. 11 | 12 | All the members were present, because some rare opinions were to be aired by men of profound thought on a question of vital importance to the life of the Republic, and because the club celebrated its anniversary in a home usually closed to society. The Doctor’s winters, since his marriage, were passed at his summer home near his celebrated sanatorium. This winter found him in town with his wife and two boys. We had heard much of the beauty of the former, who was entirely unknown to social life, and about whose life and marriage we felt sure a romantic interest attached. The Doctor himself was too bright a luminary of the professional world to remain long hidden without creating comment. We had accepted the invitation to dine with alacrity, knowing that we should be welcomed to a banquet that would feast both eye and palate ; but we had not been favored by even a glimpse of the hostess. The subject for discussion was: “ Expansion; Its Effect upon the Future Development of the Anglo-Saxon throughout the World.” 13 | 14 | Dinner was over, but we still sat about the social board dis­ cussing the question of the hour. The Hon. Herbert Clapp, eminent jurist and politician, had painted in glowing colors the advantages to be gained by the increase of wealth and the exalted position which expansion would give the United States in the councils of the great governments of the world. In smoothly flowing sentences marshalled in rhetorical order, with compact ideas, and incisive argument, he drew an effective picture with all the persuasive eloquence of the trained orator. 15 | 16 | Joseph Whitman, the theologian of world-wide fame, accepted the arguments of Mr. Clapp, but subordinated all to the great opportunity which expansion would give to the religious enthusiast. None could doubt the sincerity of this man, who looked once into the idealized face on which heaven had set the seal of consecration. 17 | 18 | Various opinions were advanced by the twenty-five men present, but the host said nothing; he glanced from one to another with a look of amusement in his shrewd gray-blue eyes. “ Wonderful eyes,” said his patients who came under their magic spell. “A wonderful man and a wonderful mind,” agreed his contemporaries, as they heard in amazement of some great cure of chronic or malignant disease which approached the super­ natural. 19 | 20 | “ What do you think of this question, Doctor? ” finally asked the president, turning to the silent host. 21 | 22 | “ Your arguments are good; they would convince almost anyone.” 23 | 24 | “ But not Doctor Thornton,” laughed the theologian. 25 | 26 | “ I acquiesce which ever way the result turns. Still, I like to view both sides of a question. We have considered but one tonight. Did you ever think that in spite of our prejudices against amalgamation, some of our descendants, indeed many of them, will inevitably intermarry among those far-off tribes of dark-skinned peoples, if they become a part of this great Union?” 27 | 28 | “ Among the lower classes that may occur, but not to any great extent,” remarked a college president. 29 | 30 | “ My experience teaches me that it will occur among all classes, and to an appalling extent,” replied the Doctor. 31 | 32 | “ You don’t believe in intermarriage with other races? ” 33 | 34 | “ Yes, most emphatically , when they possess decent moral development and physical perfection, for then we develop a superior being in the progeny born of the intermarriage. But if we are not ready to receive and assimilate the new material which will be brought to mingle with our pure Anglo-Saxon stream, we should call a halt in our expansion policy.” 35 | 36 | “ I must confess, Doctor, that in the idea of amalgamation you present a new thought to my mind. Will you not favor us with a few of your main points? ” asked the president of the club, breaking the silence which followed the Doctor’s remarks. 37 | 38 | “ Yes, Doctor, give us your theories on the subject. We may not agree with you, but we are all open to conviction.” 39 | 40 | The Doctor removed the half-consumed cigar from his lips, drank what remained in his glass of the choice Burgundy, and leaning back in his chair contemplated the earnest faces before him. 41 | 42 | We may make laws, but laws are but straws in the hands of Omnipotence. 43 | 44 | “ There’s a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.” 45 | 46 | And no man may combat fate. Given a man, propinquity, opportunity fascinating femininity, and there you are. Black, white, green, yellow — nothing will prevent intermarriage. Position, wealth, family, friends— all sink into insignificance before the God-implanted instinct that made Adam, awakening from a deep sleep and finding the woman beside him, accept Eve as bone of his bone; he cared not nor questioned whence she came. So it is with the sons of Adam ever since, through the law of heredity which makes us all one common family. And so it will be with us in our re-formation of this old Republic. Perhaps I can make my meaning clearer by illus­ tration, and with your permission I will tell you a story which came under my observation as a practitioner. 47 | 48 | Doubtless all of you heard of the terrible tragedy which occurred at Gordonville, Mass., some years ago, when Capt. Jonathan Gordon, his wife and little son were murdered. I suppose that I am the only man on this side the Atlantic, out­ side of the police, who can tell you the true story of that crime. 49 | 50 | I knew Captain Gordon well; it was through his persuasions that I bought a place in Gordonville and settled down to spend­ ing my summers in that charming rural neighborhood. I had rendered the Captain what he was pleased to call valuable medical help, and I became his family physician. Captain Gordon was a retired sea captain, formerly engaged in the East India trade. All his ancestors had been such; but when the 51 | 52 | bottom fell out of that business he established the Gordonville Mills with his first wife’s money, and settled down as a money­ making manufacturer of cotton cloth. The Gordons were old New England Puritans who had come over in the “ Mayflower ” ; 53 | 54 | they had owned Gordon Hall for more than a hundred years. It was a baronial-like pile of granite with towers, standing on a hill which commanded a superb view of Massachusetts Bay and the surrounding country. I imagine the Gordon star was under a cloud about the time Captain Jonathan married his first wife, Miss Isabel Franklin of Boston, who brought to him the money which mended the broken fortunes of the Gordon house, and restored this old Puritan stock to its rightful position. In the person of Captain Gordon the austerity of manner and indomitable will-power that he had inherited were combined with a temper that brooked no contradiction. 55 | 56 | 
The first wife died at the birth of her third child, leaving him two daughters, Jeannette and Talma. Very soon after her death the Captain married again. I have heard it rumored that the Gordon girls did not get on very well with their step­ mother. She was a woman with no fortune of her own, and envied the large portion left by the first Mrs. Gordon to her daughters. 57 | 58 | Jeannette was tall, dark, and stern like her father; Talma was like her dead mother, and possessed of great talent, so great that her father sent her to the American Academy at Rome, to develop the gift. It was the hottest of July days when her friends were bidden to an afternoon party on the lawn and a dance in the evening, to welcome Talma Gordon among them again. I watched her as she moved about among her guests, a fairylike blonde in floating white draperies, her face a study in delicate changing tints, like the heart of a flower, sparkling in smiles about the mouth to end in merry laughter in the clear blue eyes. There were all the subtle allurements of birth, wealth and culture about the exquisite creature: 59 | 60 | “ Smiling, frowning evermore, Thou art perfect in love-lore, Ever varying Madeline,” quoted a celebrated writer as he stood apart with me, gazing upon the scene before us. He sighed as he looked at the girl. “ Doctor, there is genius and passion in her face. Sometime our little friend will do wonderful things. But is it desirable to be singled out for special blessings by the gods? Genius always carries with it intense capacity for suffering: ‘Whom the gods love die young.’” 61 | “ Ah,” I replied, “ do not name death and Talma Gordon together. Cease your dismal croakings; such talk is rank heresy.” 62 | 63 | The dazzling daylight dropped slowly into summer twilight. The merriment continued; more guests arrived ; the great danc­ing pagoda built for the occasion was lighted by myriads of Japanese lanterns. The strains from the band grew sweeter and sweeter, and “ all went merry as a marriage bell.” It was a rare treat to have this party at Gordon Hall, for Captain Jonathan was not given to hospitality. We broke up shortly before midnight, with expressions of delight from all the guests. I was a bachelor then, without ties. Captain Gordon insisted upon my having a bed at the Hall. I did not fall asleep readily; there seemed to be something in the air that forbade it. I was still awake when a distant clock struck the second hour of the morning. Suddenly the heavens were lighted by a sheet of ghastly light; a terrific midsummer thunderstorm was breaking over the sleeping town. A lurid flash lit up all the landscape, painting the trees in grotesque shapes against the murky sky, and defining clearly the sullen blackness of the waters of the bay breaking in grandeur against the rocky coast. I had arisen and put back the draperies from the windows, to have an unobstructed view of the grand scene. A low muttering coming nearer and nearer, a terrific roar, and then a tremendous downpour. The storm had burst. 64 | 65 | Now the uncanny howling of a dog mingled with the rattling volleys of thunder. I heard the opening and closing of doors; the servants were about looking after things. It was impossible to sleep. The lightning was more vivid. There was a blinding flash of a greenish-white tinge mingled with the crash of falling timbers. Then before my startled gaze arose columns of red flames reflected against the sky. “ Heaven help us ! ” I cried; “ it is the left tower; it has been struck and is on fire! ” 66 | 67 | I hurried on my clothes and stepped into the corridor; the girls were there before me. Jeannette came up to me instantly with anxious face. “ Oh, Doctor Thornton, what shall we do? papa and mamma and little Johnny are in the old left tower. It is on fire. I have knocked and knocked, but get no answer.” 68 | 69 | “ Don't be alarmed,” said I soothingly. “ Jenkins, ring the alarm bell,” I continued, turning to the butler who was standing near; “ the rest follow me. We will force the entrance to the Captain’s room.” 70 | 71 | Instantly, it seemed to me, the bell boomed out upon the now silent air, for the storm had died down as quickly as it arose; and as our little procession paused before the entrance to the old left tower, we could distinguish the sound of the fire engines already on their way from the village. 72 | 73 | The door resisted all our efforts; there seemed to be a bar­ rier against it which nothing could move. The flames were gaining headway. Still the same deathly silence within the rooms. 74 | 75 | “Oh, will they never get here?” cried Talma, ringing her hands in terror. Jeannette said nothing, but her face was ashen. The servants were huddled together in a panic-stricken group. I can never tell you what a relief it was when we heard the first sound of the firemen’s voices, saw their quick movements, and heard the ringing of the axes with which they cut away every obstacle to our entrance to the rooms. The neighbors who had just enjoyed the hospitality of the house were now gathered around offering all the assistance in their power. In less than fifteen minutes the fire was out, and the men began to bear the unconscious inmates from the ruins. They carried them to the pagoda so lately the scene of mirth and pleasure, and I took up my station there, ready to assume my professional duties. The Captain was nearest me; and as I stooped to make the necessary examination I reeled away from the ghastly sight which confronted me—gentlemen, across the Captain's throat was a deep gash that severed the jugular vein! 76 | 77 | The Doctor paused, and the hand with which he refilled his glass trembled violently. 78 | 79 | “ What is it, Doctor?” cried the men, gathering about me. “ Take the women away; this is murder!”
“ Murder! ” cried Jeannette, as she fell against the side of the pagoda. 80 | 
“ Murder! ” screamed Talma, staring at me as if unable to grasp my meaning. 81 | 
I continued my examination of the bodies, and found that the same thing had happened to Mrs. Gordon and to little Johnny. The police were notified; and when the sun rose over the dripping town he found them in charge of Gordon Hall, the servants standing in excited knots talking over the crime, the friends of the family confounded, and the two girls trying to comfort each other and realize the terrible misfortune that had overtaken them. 82 | 83 | Nothing in the rooms of the left tower seemed to have been disturbed. The door of communication between the rooms of the husband and wife was open, as they had arranged it for the night. Little Johnny’s crib was placed beside his mother’s bed. In it he was found as though never awakened by the storm. It was quite evident that the assassin was no common ruffian. The chief gave strict orders for a watch to be kept on all strangers or suspicious characters who were seen in the neighborhood. He made inquiries among the servants, seeing each one separately, but there was nothing gained from them. No one had heard anything suspicious; all had been awakened by the storm. The chief was puzzled. Here was a triple crime for which no motive could be assigned. 84 | 85 | “ What do you think of it?” I asked him, as we stood to­gether on the lawn. 86 | 87 | “ It is my opinion that the deed was committed by one of the higher classes, which makes the mystery more difficult to solve. I tell you, Doctor, there are mysteries that never come to light, and this, I think, is one of them.” 88 | 89 | While we were talking Jenkins, the butler, an old and trusted servant, came up to the chief and saluted respectfully. " Want to speak with me, Jenkins?” he asked. The man nodded, and they walked away together. 90 | 91 | The story of the inquest was short, but appalling. It was shown that Talma had been allowed to go abroad to study because she and Mrs. Gordon did not get on well together. From the testimony of Jenkins it seemed that Talma and her father had quarrelled bitterly about her lover, a young artist whom she had met at Rome, who was unknown to fame, and very poor. There had been terrible things said by each, and threats even had passed, all of which now rose up in judgment against the unhappy girl. The examination of the family solicitor revealed the fact that Captain Gordon intended to leave his daughters only a small annuity, the bulk of the fortune going to his son Jonathan, junior. This was a monstrous injustice, as everyone felt. In vain Talma protested her innocence. Someone must have done it. No one would be benefited so much by these deaths as she and her sister. Moreover, the will, together with other papers, was nowhere to be found. Not the slightest clue bearing upon the disturbing elements in this family, if any there were, was to be found. As the only surviving relatives, Jeannette and Talma became joint heirs to an immense fortune, which only for the bloody tragedy just enacted would, in all probability, have passed them by. Here was the motive. The case was very black against Talma. The foreman stood up. The silence was intense: We “ find that Capt. Jonathan Gordon, Mary E. Gordon and Jonathan 92 | 93 | Gordon, junior, all deceased, came to their deaths by means of a knife or other sharp instrument in the hands of Talma Gordon.” The girl was like one stricken with death. The flower-like mouth was drawn and pinched; the great sapphire- blue eyes were black with passionate anguish, terror and despair. She was placed in jail to await her trial at the fall session of the criminal court. The excitement in the hitherto quiet town rose to fever heat. Many points in the evidence seemed incom­plete to thinking men. The weapon could not be found, nor could it be divined what had become of it. No reason could be given for the murder except the quarrel between Talma and her father and the ill will which existed between the girl and her stepmother. 94 | 95 | When the trial was called Jeannette sat beside Talma in the prisoner’s dock; both were arrayed in deepest mourning. Talma was pale and careworn, but seemed uplifted, spiritual­ized, as it were. Upon Jeannette the full realization of her sis­ ter’s peril seemed to weigh heavily. She had changed much too: hollow cheeks, tottering steps, eyes blazing with fever, all suggestive of rapid and premature decay. From far-off Italy Edward Turner, growing famous in the art world, came to stand beside his girl-love in this hour of anguish. 96 | 97 | The trial was a memorable one. No additional evidence had been collected to strengthen the prosecution; when the attorney-general rose to open the case against Talma he knew, as everyone else did, that he could not convict solely on the evidence adduced. What was given did not always bear upon the case, and brought out strange stories of Captain Jonathan’s methods. Tales were told of sailors who had sworn to take his life, in revenge for injuries inflicted upon them by his hand. One or two clues were followed, but without avail. The judge summed up the evidence impartially, giving the prisoner the benefit of the doubt. The points in hand furnished valuable collateral evidence, but were not direct proof. Although the moral presumption was against the prisoner, legal evidence was lacking to actually convict. The jury found the prisoner “ Not Guilty,” owing to the fact that the evidence was entirely cir­cumstantial. The verdict was received in painful silence; then a murmur of discontent ran through the great crowd. 98 | 99 | “ She must have done it,” said one; “ who else has been benefited by the horrible deed? ” 100 | 101 | “ A poor woman would not have fared so well at the hands of the jury, nor a homely one either, for that matter,” said another.
 102 | The great Gordon trial was ended; innocent or guilty, Talma Gordon could not be tried again. She was free; but her liberty, with blasted prospects and fair fame gone forever, was valueless to her. She seemed to have but one object in her mind: to find the murderer or murderers of her parents and half-brother. By her direction the shrewdest of detectives were employed and money flowed like water, but to no purpose; the Gordon tragedy remained a mystery. I had consented to act as one of the trustees of the immense Gordon estates and business inter­ests, and by my advice the Misses Gordon went abroad. A year later I received a letter from Edward Turner, saying that Jeannette Gordon had died suddenly at Rome, and that Talma, after refusing all his entreaties for an early marriage, had disap­peared, leaving no clue as to her whereabouts. I could give the poor fellow no comfort, although I had been duly notified of the death of Jeannette by Talma, in a letter telling me where to forward her remittances, and at the same time requesting me to keep her present residence secret, especially from Edward. 103 | 104 | I had established a sanitarium for the cure of chronic dis­ eases at Gordonville, and absorbed in the cares of my profes­sion I gave little thought to the Gordons. I seemed fated to be involved in mysteries. 105 | 106 | A man claiming to be an Englishman, and fresh from the Cali­fornia gold fields, engaged board and professional service at my retreat. I found him suffering in the grasp of the tubercle- fiend — the last stages. He called himself Simon Cameron. Seldom have I seen so fascinating and wicked a face. The lines of the mouth were cruel, the eyes cold and sharp, the smile mocking and evil. He had money in plenty but seemed to have no friends, for he had received no letters and had had no visitors in the time he had been with us. He was an enigma to me; and his nationality puzzled me, for of course I did not believe his story of being English. The peaceful influence of the house seemed to sooth him in a measure, and make his last steps to the mysterious valley as easy as possible. For a time he improved, and would sit or walk about the grounds and sing sweet songs for the pleasure of the other inmates. Strange to say, his malady only affected his voice at times. He sang quaint songs in a silvery tenor of great purity and sweetness that was delicious to the listening ear: 107 | 108 | “ A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail And bends the gallant mast;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys ; While like the eagle free,
Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lea.” 109 | 110 | There are few singers on the lyric stage who could surpass Simon Cameron. 111 | 112 | One night, a few weeks after Cameron’s arrival, I sat in my office making up my accounts when the door opened and closed; I glanced up, expecting to see a servant. A lady advanced toward me. She threw back her veil, and then I saw that Talma Gordon, or her ghost, stood before me. After the first excitement of our meeting was over, she told me she had come direct from Paris, to place herself in my care. I had studied her attentively during the first moments of our meeting, and I felt that she was right; unless something unforeseen hap­pened to arouse her from the stupor into which she seemed to have fallen, the last Gordon was doomed to an early death. The next day I told her I had cabled Edward Turner to come to her. 113 | 114 | “ It will do no good; I cannot marry him,” was her only comment. 115 | 116 | “ Have you no feeling of pity for that faithful fellow?” I asked her sternly, provoked by her seeming indifference. I shall never forget the varied emotions depicted on her speaking face. Fully revealed to my gaze was the sight of a human soul tortured beyond the point of endurance; suffering all things, enduring all things, in the silent agony of despair. 117 | 118 | In a few days Edward arrived, and Talma consented to see him and explain her refusal to keep her promise to him. You must be present, Doctor; it is due your long, tried friendship to know that I have not been fickle, but have acted from the best and strongest motives. 119 | 120 | I shall never forget that day. It was directly after lunch that we met in the library. I was greatly excited, expecting I knew not what. Edward was agitated, too. Talma was the only calm one. She handed me what seemed to be a letter, with the request that I would read it. Even now I think I can repeat every word of the document, so indelibly are the words engraved upon my mind: 121 | 122 | My darling Sister Talma : When you read these lines I shall be no more, for I shall not live to see your life blasted by the same knowledge that has blighted mine. 123 | 124 | One evening, about a year before your expected return from Rome, I climbed into a hammock in one corner of the veranda outside the breakfast-room windows, intending to spend the twilight hours in lazy comfort, for it was very hot, enervating August weather. I fell asleep. I was awakened by voices. Because of the heat the rooms had been left in semi-darkness. As I lay there, lazily enjoying the beauty of the perfect sum­mer night, my wandering thoughts were arrested by words spoken by our father to Mrs. Gordon, for they were the occu­pants of the breakfast-room. 125 | 126 | “ Never fear, Mary; Johnny shall have it a ll— money, houses, land and business.” 127 | 128 | “ But if you do go first, Jonathan, what will happen if the girls contest the will? People will think that they ought to have the money as it appears to be theirs by law. I never could survive the terrible disgrace of the story.” 129 | 130 | “Don’t borrow trouble; all you would need to do would be to show them papers I have drawn up, and they would be glad to take their annuity and say nothing. After all, I do not think it is so bad. Jeannette can teach; Talma can paint; six hundred dollars a year is quite enough for them.” 131 | 132 | I had been somewhat mystified by the conversation until now. This last remark solved the riddle. What could he mean? teach, paint, six hundred a y e a r ! W ith my usual impetuosity I sprang from my resting-place, and in a moment stood in the room confronting my father, and asking what he meant. I could see plainly that both were disconcerted by my unexpected appearance. 133 | 134 | “Ah, wretched girl! you have been listening. But what could I expect of your mother’s daughter?” 135 | 136 | At these words I felt the indignant blood rush to my head in a torrent. So it had been all my life. Before you could remember, Talma, I had felt my little heart swell with anger at the disparaging hints and slurs concerning our mother. Now was my time. I determined that tonight I would know why she was looked upon as an outcast, and her children subjected to every humiliation. So I replied to my father in bitter anger: “ I was not listening; I fell asleep in the hammock. What do you mean by a paltry six hundred a year each to Talma and to me? ‘ My mother’s daughter ’ demands an explanation from you, sir, of the meaning of the monstrous injustice that you have always practised toward my sister and me.” 137 | 
“ Speak more respectfully to your father, Jeannette,” broke in Mrs. Gordon.
“ How is it, madam, that you look for respect from one whom you have delighted to torment ever since you came into this most unhappy family?” 138 | 139 | “ Hush, both of you,” said Captain Gordon, who seemed to have recovered from the dismay into which my sudden appear­ance and passionate words had plunged him. “ I think I may as well tell you as to wait. Since you know so much, you may as well know the whole miserable story.” He motioned me to a seat. I could see that he was deeply agitated. I seated myself in a chair he pointed out, in wonder and expec­tation,- - expectation of I knew not what. I trembled. This was a supreme moment in my life; I felt it. The air was heavy with the intense stillness that had settled over us as the common sounds of day gave place to the early quiet of the rural evening. I could see Mrs. Gordon’s face as she sat within the radius of the lighted hallway. There was a smile of triumph upon it. I clinched my hands and bit my lips until the blood came, in the effort to keep from screaming. What was I about to hear? At last he spoke: 140 | 141 | “ I was disappointed at your birth, and also at the birth of Talma. I wanted a male heir. When I knew that I should again be a father I was torn by hope and fear, but I comforted myself with the thought that luck would be with me in the birth of the third child. When the doctor brought me word that a son was born to the house of Gordon, I was wild with delight, and did not notice his disturbed countenance. In the midst of my joy he said to me: 142 | 
“ Captain Gordon, there is something strange about this birth. I want you to see this child.”
Quelling my exultation I followed him to the nursery, and there, lying in the cradle, I saw a child dark as a mulatto, with the characteristic features of the Negro! I was stunned. Gradually it dawned upon me that there was something radi­cally wrong. I turned to the doctor for an explanation. 143 | 144 | “ There is but one explanation, Captain Gordon; there is Negro blood in this child.” 145 | 146 | “There is no Negro blood in my veins,” I said proudly. Then I paused — the mother! — I glanced at the doctor. He was watching me intently. The same thought was in his mind. I must have lived a thousand years in that cursed five seconds that I stood there confronting the physician and trying to think. “ Come,” said I to him, “ let us end this suspense.” Without thinking of consequences, I hurried away to your mother and accused her of infidelity to her marriage vows. I raved like a madman. Your mother fell into convulsions; her life was despaired of. I sent for Mr. and Mrs. Franklin, and then I learned the truth. They were childless. One year while on a Southern tour, they befriended an octoroon girl who had been abandoned by her white lover. Her child was a beautiful girl baby. They, being Northern born, thought little of caste distinction because the child showed no trace of Negro blood. They determined to adopt it. They went abroad, secretly sending back word to their friends at a proper time, of the birth of a little daughter. No one doubted the truth of the statement. They made Isabel their heiress, and all went well until the birth of your brother. Your mother and the unfortu­nate babe died. This is the story which, if known, would bring dire disgrace upon the Gordon family. 147 | 148 | To appease my righteous wrath, Mr. Franklin left a codicil to his will by which all the property is left at my disposal save a small annuity to you and your sister. 149 | 150 | I sat there after he had finished his story, stunned by what I had heard. I understood, now, Mrs. Gordon’s half contemptu­ous toleration and lack of consideration for us both. As I rose from my seat to leave the room I said to Captain Gordon: 151 | 152 | “ Still, in spite of all, sir, I am a Gordon, legally born. I will not tamely give up my birthright.” 153 | I left that room a broken-hearted girl, filled with a desire for revenge upon this man, my father, who by his manner dis­ owned us without a regret. Not once in that remarkable inter­ view did he speak of our mother as his wife; he quietly repudiated her and us with all the cold cruelty of relentless caste prejudice. I heard the treatment of your lover’s pro­posal ; I knew why Captain Gordon’s consent to your marriage was withheld. 154 | 155 | The night of the reception and dance was the chance for which I had waited, planned and watched. I crept from my window into the ivy-vines, and so down, down, until I stood upon the window-sill of Captain Gordon’s room in the old left tower. How did I do it, you ask? I do not know. The house was silent after the revel; the darkness of the gathering storm favored me, too. The lawyer was there that day. The will was signed and put safely away among my father’s papers. I was determined to have the will and the other documents bearing upon the case, and I would have revenge, too, for the cruelties we had suffered. With the old East Indian dagger firmly grasped I entered the room and found — that my revenge had been forestalled! The horror of the discovery I made that night restored me to reason and a realization of the crime I meditated. Scarce knowing what I did, I sought and found the papers, and crept back to my room as I had come. Do you wonder that my disease is past medical aid? ” 156 | 157 | I looked at Edward as I finished. He sat, his face covered with his hands. Finally he looked up with a glance of hag­gard despair: “ God! Doctor, but this is too much. I could stand the stigma of murder, but add to that the pollution of Negro blood! No man is brave enough to face such a situa­tion.” 158 | 159 | “ It is as I thought it would be,” said Talma sadly, while the tears poured over her white face. “ I do not blame you, Edward.” 160 | 161 | He rose from his chair, rung my hand in a convulsive clasp, turned to Talma and bowed profoundly, with his eyes fixed upon the floor, hesitated, turned, paused, bowed again and abruptly left the room. So those two who had been lovers, parted. I turned to Talma, expecting her to give way. She smiled a pitiful smile, and said: “ You see, Doctor, I knew best.” 162 | 163 | From that on she failed rapidly. I was restless. If only I could rouse her to an interest in life, she might live to old age. So rich, so young, so beautiful, so talented, so pure; I grew savage thinking of the injustice of the world. I had not reckoned on the power that never sleeps. Something was about to happen. 164 | 165 | On visiting Cameron next morning I found him approaching the end. He had been sinking for a week very rapidly. As I sat by the bedside holding his emaciated hand, he fixed his bright, wicked eyes on me, and asked: “ How long have I got to live?” 166 | 167 | “ Candidly, but a few hours.” 168 | 169 | “ Thank you; well, I want death; I am not afraid to die. Doctor, Cameron is not my name.” 170 | 171 | “ I never supposed it was.” 172 | 173 | “ No? You are sharper than I thought. I heard all your talk yesterday with Talma Gordon. Curse the whole race ! ” 174 | 175 | He clasped his bony fingers around my arm and gasped: 176 | 177 | "I murdered the Gordons!" 178 | 179 | Had I the pen of a Dumas I could not paint Cameron as he told his story. It is a question with me whether this wheeling planet, home of the suffering, doubting, dying, may not hold worse agonies on its smiling surface than those of the conventional hell. I sent for Talma and a lawyer. We gave him stimulants, and then with broken intervals of coughing and pros­tration we got the story of the Gordon murder. I give it to you in a few words: 180 | 181 | “I am an East Indian, but my name does not matter, Cameron is as good as any. There is many a soul crying in heaven and hell for vengeance on Jonathan Gordon. Gold was his idol; and many a good man walked the plank, and many a gallant ship was stripped of her treasure, to satisfy his lust for gold. His blackest crime was the murder of my father, who was his friend, and had sailed with him for many a year as mate. One night these two went ashore together to bury their treasure. My father never returned from that expedition. His body was afterward found with a bullet through the heart on the shore where the vessel stopped that night. It was the custom then among pirates for the captain to kill the men who helped bury their treasure. Captain Gordon was no better than a pirate. An East Indian never forgets, and I swore by my mother’s deathbed to hunt Captain Gordon down until I had avenged my father’s murder. I had the plans of the Gordon estate, and fixed on the night of the reception in honor of Talma as the time for my vengeance. There is a secret entrance from the shore to the chambers where Captain Gordon slept; no one knew of it save the Captain and trusted members of his crew. My mother gave me the plans, and entrance and escape were easy.” 182 | 183 | “So the great mystery was solved. In a few hours Cameron was no more. We placed the confession in the hands of the police, and there the matter ended.” 184 | 185 | “But what became of Talma Gordon?” questioned the president. “ Did she die? ” 186 | 187 | “Gentlemen,” said the Doctor, rising to his feet and sweep­ ing the faces of the company with his eagle gaze, “ gentlemen, if you will follow me to the drawing-room, I shall have much pleasure in introducing you to my wife — nee Talma Gordon.” 188 | 189 | 190 | 191 | 192 | 193 | 194 | 195 | 196 | 197 | 198 | 199 | 200 | 201 | 202 | 203 | --------------------------------------------------------------------------------