THE PROBLEM 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 Benjamin Griffith Brawley 
 
\ 
 
THE PROBLEM 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Benjamin Griffith Brawley. 
 
 K 
 
 "So many gods, so many creeds. 
 So many paths that wind and wind. 
 When just the art of being- kind 
 
 Is all this sad world needs." 
 
 Atlanta Baptist College Print, 
 ATLANTA, GA. 
 
SIP 29 syub 
 
 
 K^-^ 
 
 Copyriglit. T905, by 
 Benjamin Griffith Brawlev 
 
In the heart of a bhick man 
 there is ever a feeling of won- 
 der. His faith bids him be 
 hopeful, but the present 
 makes him dubious of the 
 future. He looks at his 
 child or his younger brother 
 and wonders what the end 
 of it all will be. Those who 
 know this may be able to 
 understand what 1 have tried 
 to say in this little book. 
 
There is one who has lived much but 
 whose heart is yet young, one who has 
 suffered much but whose faith is still strong. 
 By her my earliest footsteps were directed 
 toward the Mount of High Ideals; and it 
 is because I know that she is but one of 
 many noble women who in this tide of 
 times have high purpose for their sons 
 that I dedicate these faltering lines 
 TO MY MOTHER. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Problem i 
 
 The Battleground -2 
 
 The Slaver a 
 
 The Flag 6 
 
 The Religion y 
 
 The Law 
 
 The Peon's Child 10 
 
 The Education 1 1 
 
 To the Old Home 12 
 
 The Little Sister 15 
 
 The Plan 16 
 
 A Prayer ly 
 
 My Creed 18 
 
Note. — The Problem, The Education, 
 and The Plan are here reprinted with tlie 
 permission of the editors of llie Voice of 
 the Negro, in which magazine they first 
 appeared. 
 
THE I^ROF3LEM 
 
 Ye who have the vision, ye who know the plan 
 Of the stretch of empire o'er the haunts of man, 
 
 Ye who claim dominion far as man may reach, 
 What are these wild doctrines that at home ye teach? 
 
 What is this new notion of the lust of laws, 
 Sheltered by your ensign, bargained for your cause? 
 
 Farther vet and farther spreads the eagle's wing, 
 Louder yet your triumph bids the heathen sing; 
 
 Farther yet and farther do your footsteps go. 
 Each new day a harvest of the seed ye sow : 
 
 Ye who day by day are seeking for your need. 
 What is this ye harbor, what is this ye breed. 
 
 This the hope of glory, this the great desire, 
 Daily growing fatter 'neath your altar-fire? 
 
 What are these decrees your legislators make, 
 Striving all the founding of your code to shake? 
 
 What is this proscription, what these brazen bars, 
 What this fearful phantom of the jim-crow cars? 
 
 Whence these gods of fury at whose feet ye bow% 
 Relics of the darkness, superseded now? 
 
 Was it then for this ye sank the Merrimac, 
 Or is this the whole wild fabric going back — 
 
 Back across the ages to the river-brink 
 
 Where the man meets slave, where youn^ slave-children drink? 
 
■V]\IZ PKOni.KM AN!) OTHER POK\!S 
 
 ()tie of vo;;r stronjr ]')Ofis, virile and of sij^-bt, 
 S:i\v the fearful image. |)iteous in its pliohl. 
 
 Of .'I man of might, with muffled undertone, 
 lioiling, rolling, rolling up a hill a stone. 
 
 All the agitation, all the strife and woe. 
 All the stress and tumult forty years ago. 
 
 Left tliis ancient probleni, reared at your command, 
 Shall ye try to crush this man, or bid him stand? 
 
 Was it idle speaking, was it platitude. 
 
 Do we bend the meaning, stretch the magnitude, 
 
 (3f the Declaration — all the hope it meant, 
 That ''We hold these truths to be self-evident?" 
 
 \\Vre the fathers wrong, or did they say too much? 
 \\'as oppression such but when they felt its touch? 
 
 What are all the words here that ye fail to heed? 
 Can it be tiiat folly satisfied your need ; 
 
 ( )r is this the God-sent oracle of truth, 
 
 Purcliased with your blood for all the world forsooth? 
 
 Hearts are still unchanging; what ye craved for then 
 Burns within the bosoms of a million men ; 
 
 All ye fain would teach us bv a sterner hand 
 Do our minds full-seeing fail to understand. 
 
 \'e who have the vision, ye who know the way, 
 Hear the mighty millions singing as they pray; 
 
 Heed the word the dubious present prophesies, 
 List the music-making as the toilers rise. 
 
 Toiling with their face full-turned upon the sun, 
 Rising yet and higher when each day is done. 
 
 ^'e who claim the gospel, ye who know the law. 
 Worship ye the night, or what your fathers saw? 
 
TME BATTLED UO[TNM) 
 
 THE Bx^TTLEGROUND 
 
 Let me live close to men's hearts. In the years 
 When youth is full, let me know men and grow 
 Into the knowledge of their pulsing souls. 
 Not on some distant peak w4iere in the veil 
 Fame tapers and the siren temples blaze. 
 May my days pass, but on a lower ground, 
 Where men of might brave dubious circumstance 
 Where sorrow wears the heart, would lose the soul 
 Where strenuous life demands high ideals. 
 In lusty labor and the fight with fire, 
 Or sin, unlovable benightedness, 
 May I know men, and knowing learn to love, 
 And loving learn to help them in their toil. 
 
TIIK Pl?OT?T,EM AND OTHER T'OEM 
 
 THE SLAVER 
 
 A Vision ol' What Has Been, Viewed off Charleston Harbor. 
 
 As I stand near the ripple and plash of the wave, as I stand 
 Where the soul of the sea throbs with passion and love for the land, 
 As I muse in the attar of lilies and jessamine-bloom. 
 All the stress and the song of a hundred 3^ears fall in the loom. 
 
 Who is that? It is Taney; John Brown is — is making a raid! 
 Is it Vesey that thinks? Are the mothers of Charleston afraid? 
 W^hat a beautiful girl for an auction! a slave? and — hah! — she 
 \Vith bouquets? Why. that's Topsy ; that soldier there? Robert 
 E. Lee. 
 
 It may be but the mist which the sea from its caverns hath wrung, 
 
 It may be but an impotent dream, undeveloped, unsung, 
 
 But that tosses and tunes a ghost-dance, imd that shudders and 
 
 veers, 
 A\'hile the pilot greets hence in the darkness the death that he 
 
 steers. 
 
 And thd mist settles low on the deej), and ihe night-wind comes 
 
 down 
 On the heart of the sea where the myriad star-dartings drown; 
 Is it death — can it be? — that dim mist, and that scent from the 
 
 line — 
 That strange vapor that mixes in heav'n with palmetto and pine? 
 
 It comes nearer, becomes more defined, and the waters let slip, 
 And the vasty dim blackness grows blacker; ah, see! 'tis a ship! 
 It recedes, it recoils like a serpent full ready to spring ; 
 Far across the Atlantic's deep chest hear the slaves as they sinp^. 
 
THE ST.AVRlf 5 
 
 And the anthem spurred on by the driver rolls over the main, 
 And the wavelets would fain bear the wail to the home-shore again ; 
 Surely these are thy creatures, O God, they live under thy skies — 
 Why, why do they shudder at even, why hate the sunrise? 
 
 Yes, here! it was here that they brought them, those captives of old; 
 It was here that they huddled at bell-taps, and here they were sold ; 
 Is it scourge and the death that I fear, mine — and, Africa, thine? 
 No! in heav'n, mixed with beautv and blue, see Aldebaran shine! 
 
THE PKOTU.RM AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE FLAG 
 
 Xot though the prospect beckons, 
 
 Not though deep-wrung b}^ crimes 
 My heart grows hot within me 
 
 In this full tide of times, 
 Could thrills of love impel me 
 
 To bless another shrine, 
 Or cla<p another standard 
 
 Than this one so long mine. 
 
 The lot to brand injustice. 
 
 The task of wrong to right, 
 Demands a surer ensign 
 
 Than one fuil-bought by spite ; 
 In vain is to disparage, 
 
 Or e'er attempt to meet 
 The glory of Old Glory, 
 
 The hope our hearts repeat. 
 
 Let not the dubious present 
 
 Obscure the soul of things, 
 Let not a wayward impulse 
 
 Breed far-fetched bargainings: 
 The trading made by Esau 
 
 And Jacob each to each, 
 Is not to pass unheeded 
 
 By those whom it might teach. 
 
 The hope our fathers fought for. 
 
 The way their footsteps trod, 
 Is not to be forsaken 
 
 By children of their God ; 
 'Tis in the stress of impulse, 
 
 The strife of clan with clan. 
 He proves them true believers 
 
 And tries the soul of man. 
 
THE IIELIGTON 
 
 THERELKtION 
 
 Go find a new relii^ion, 
 
 Eschew the Christ ye praise, 
 Let him no more be reckoned 
 
 The keeper of your ways; 
 Ye men of vague protesting. 
 
 Of scarlet heart and hand. 
 What means to you Mount Sinai, 
 
 The law and God's command? 
 
 One day full-bought with fury 
 
 The funeral altars rise, 
 And then to rage and madness 
 
 Ye make full sacrifice ; 
 And ere 3'our work is finished, 
 
 Or ere the pyre is cold, 
 The Sabbath dawns to witness 
 
 The tale your hands have told. 
 
 Ye go to sanctuary. 
 
 And on your bended knees 
 Ye lisp the Master's doctrine 
 
 Of * 'Inasmuch to these;" 
 O dull of comprehension, 
 
 O vain in your conceit, 
 What mean ye by "Our Father, "- 
 
 The form your lips repeat? 
 
 The Master loved no seeming, 
 
 He lived that all might see 
 His hate of sham and fashion 
 
 And all hypocrisy ; 
 How think you ye will reckon. 
 
 How think you ye will pray. 
 When judgment and when justice 
 
 Begin their destined sway? 
 
-i !1P: I'lJOlJLEM AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Go find a new religion, 
 
 Some more trustworthy creed, 
 Some faith your hearts will answer 
 
 In time of fear and need, 
 No insufficient doctrine 
 
 Like that of Galilee, 
 Some rule more worth believing, — 
 
 Be honest and be free. 
 
'niK LAW 
 
 THE LAW 
 
 Out i?i the fury of the sunimei' sun 
 
 In sullen silence stood the inultitude; 
 Within the crowd awaiting- the event 
 With nimble fjigers virought a favored fe~i\ 
 nil all was ready and a rope did coil 
 
 Around the victim crouching at the stake. 
 
 What boots it that this tale was told before, — 
 That but another Nep^ro is no more? 
 What means it that this mob in silence turns, — 
 That in its breast no light of conscience burns? 
 
 But this : — 
 
 WHiere once the dawn of Justice neared, 
 Behold a nation with a conscience seared ; 
 Over the land where men on judgment wait, 
 vSee baby-fingers clasp the helm of state ; 
 See men whose sires did Magna Carta sign. 
 All wanton duty to the winds resign ; 
 Or when at midnight comes an armed band, 
 Behold a coward or a traitor stand! 
 
 The arm of Liberty no more in air, 
 Ten thousand now the Constitution dare ; 
 And mindful but of gold or full-crammed maw, 
 What reck these men of freedom or the law? 
 And they that of democracy take keep 
 See those that sowed the wind the whirlwind reap; 
 W^hile down the ages goes the sad refrain, 
 "Here once the vision of the world did reign." 
 
lO 'lliK I'iJORI.EM AND OTHKR POEMS 
 
 TUE PEON'S CHILD 
 
 Out in the acres underneath the sun. 
 I'he full-blown cotton, after months of ruin, 
 Breaks from the boll and longs to kiss the ground. 
 Wearied with pain and blinded by the dust, 
 A ciiild plods slowly down the long white row,^, 
 A sack hung on his back, and in his eyes 
 Tha press and greed of ages and the world, 
 But evermore within his heart a hope. 
 And en his lips a trill and snatch of song. 
 
 What knows this child of how to give and take. 
 Of svntax or of places on the map? 
 What does he think of Isaac Newton's law; 
 What does he care for Shakspere and the light? 
 II ow can he measure in the after-years 
 The scale of justice or be held for sin? 
 Around him in God's glory and the light 
 A passionate bird hurls its defiant soul 
 Forth to the clouds in mocking of the blue ; 
 But what is this to him whom in the years 
 A long, long wilderness of white awaits? 
 Around him sings the silence of the dawn, 
 Above him all the symphonies of heaven ; 
 But what to hirn the glory or the gleam. 
 What means the music of the spheres to him? 
 
 Ye men who own the cotton-fields and plains, 
 Who run the whirring factories and the mills, 
 Weaving your wealth of heart-strings and of tears, 
 Wliat is the heritage ye give this child? 
 What will ye say in that hereafter day. 
 When far beyond the working of the world, 
 Within the circuit of a righteous judge. 
 He greets you in the thunder-clouds of heaven? 
 
THE EDUCATION II 
 
 THE EDl^CATION 
 
 Tliere wus a time wljen vSocrates 
 
 The wisdom of the young men drew, 
 
 When not such leaden forms as tliese 
 I see, w^ere what the people knew : 
 
 But now the light the fathers burned 
 
 By other lights is overturned. 
 
 And now the Doric numbers flow- 
 More slowly than in elder days: 
 
 And some less ancient Cicero 
 
 Now thunders forth in blame or praise 
 
 To other gods than Zeus we throng, 
 
 For Horner is a wornout song. 
 
 And now a people with a zeal 
 
 For things that they can make and see, 
 Forgets the lyric trance to feel, 
 
 Hears but the anvil's clank and plea; 
 The heart's most sacred thrill and tone 
 Is sacrifice to wood and stone. 
 
 The leaders of the nations strive. 
 But strive with water, air, and fire ; 
 
 And day by day they onward drive 
 Their sons, made mad by mad desire; 
 
 Yet as their phantoms they pursue, 
 
 I wonder if the gains are true. 
 
 Let me upon Olynipus steep 
 
 Hold forth my unimpeded way ; 
 
 There may I not forget to keep 
 The mystery of yesterday; 
 
 The life we live is more than meat; 
 
 Beware the creeds your lips repeat ! 
 
 1 ^.:^ ■: 
 
'II fE HKORT.EAr AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 TO THE OLD HOME. 
 
 We are <>-oino: back to the country, 
 
 Away from the rush of the town. 
 For I've ^iven 'em both a trial, 
 
 And it's here that sve all run down; 
 For the rows in the fields are callinor, 
 
 The rows of the cotton and corn, 
 And we're goin^ back to the country. 
 
 Where my father's father was born. 
 
 You see it was this way, stranorer, 
 
 When we come to Atlanta to stay — 
 We'd had a bad year in Coweta, 
 
 And thought we'd do better away; 
 So wife and I and the children 
 
 All talked it over one night. 
 And then we decided on leaving 
 
 The farm with its uphill tight. 
 
 So not many mornings after, 
 
 With Ed — that's my eldest son — 
 I come up here to the city 
 
 To see what work could be done ; 
 We liked the streets and the business— 
 
 We'd seen 'em but twice before — 
 And where everyone seemed prosp'roii 
 
 We looked to be mighty poor. 
 
 We rented a house over yonder 
 Where you seen me a year ago; 
 
 It wasn't much like the others, 
 
 Rut our means was short, you know 
 
TO TITE OLD flOMR 
 
 And then all the rest for the money 
 Looked to me miicii worse by a mile, 
 
 And we thoiH^ht that we mit^^ht do better 
 After working- and waitino^ a while. 
 
 So I went for wife and the children. 
 
 And brought them all here to stay; 
 I was jylad to see 'em so happy — 
 
 My own heart was light that day; 
 But I tell 3'ou, 1 tell you, stranger, 
 
 For the town at least to speak, 
 It's hard to support eight children 
 
 On seven and a half a week. 
 
 First Ed g(^t to goin' with people 
 
 His mother and I couldn't see ; 
 We tried to break up his habits, 
 
 But the city was stronger than we; 
 At last he got into trouble — 
 
 All over some sort of a game — 
 The other fellow began it. 
 
 But they all said Ed was to blame. 
 
 Then Minnie our eldest daughter 
 
 Did not turn out very well. 
 And after we spoke about it 
 
 She went oiT and stayed for a spell ; 
 But we gritted our teeth and stood it, 
 
 And moved over here cross town; 
 But the city is still the city 
 
 Whether we be up or down. 
 
 And so one after another 
 
 The long months passed somehow ; 
 When Nancy was here I could stand it, 
 
 But I'm at my road's end now; 
 
'Hit' vv ay fioinehow seemed clearer 
 When .-;he was by my side — 
 
 lUit last week eaine a sickness. 
 And then my (iear wife died. 
 
 Th.e bread's been hard in tlie wlnnino-. 
 
 The city has cost me dear. 
 I have paid the price that was asked for 
 
 And 1 leave my heart's life here; 
 But I said when Nancy left us 
 
 To rest from her pain and care, 
 That I'd ^o home with the children 
 
 And do my best for 'em there. 
 
 So we're going back to the country, 
 
 Away from the rush of the town, 
 For I've given 'em both a trial, 
 
 And it's here that we all run dowai ; 
 For the rows in the fields are calling, 
 
 The rows of the cotton and corn. 
 And we^re going back to the country 
 
 Where mv father's father was born. 
 
TltK ].I'rTLE SISTEK 
 
 THE LlTl'LE SISTER 
 
 At sunset in the open door, 
 My little sister sits with me ; 
 
 We watch the shadows fall before 
 The wood-bine and the :ipple-tree ; 
 
 She sews a dress for baby Dot. 
 
 /vnd I untie a tangled knot. 
 
 High up and down the golden strand 
 My little sister runs with me; 
 
 She tightly holds me by the hand, 
 And calls to watch the ships at sea; 
 
 The merry wavelets gleam and dance, 
 
 Reflected in her happy glance. 
 
 Ah, Margie, when the after-years 
 Bring days of wisdom to your head, 
 
 When duty calls and wisdom nears, 
 Shall I untie the tangled thread? 
 
 When long from now we view the sea, 
 
 How will it be with you and me.'' 
 
i6 
 
 rirE PKOBLKM AXl) OTHHK POEMS 
 
 THE m.AN 
 
 F:ir above the strife and strivings, 
 And the hate of man for man, 
 
 1 can see the o-reat contriving 
 Of a more than human plan. 
 
 And day by day more clearly 
 Do v/e see the great design, 
 
 And day by day more nearly 
 Do we footsteps fall in line; 
 
 For in spite of the winds repeating 
 The rule of the lash and rod, 
 
 The heart of the world is beating 
 With the love that was born of God. 
 
A PRAVKK 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 Lord God, to whoTii our fathers prayed. 
 To whom they did not pray in vain, 
 
 And who For tliem assurance made, 
 Though oit repeated their refrain, 
 
 Hope of our race, again we cry, 
 
 Draw^ near and help us-, lest we die. 
 
 'i->' 
 
 The battle rages fierce and lonj 
 The wicked seem to triumph still 
 
 Yet all things to the Lord belong. 
 And all must bow beneath his will. 
 
 Lord God of old, again we cry, 
 
 Draw near and lielp us, lest we die. 
 
 If brooding o'er the w^rongs w^e grieve, 
 Our hearts forget to turn to thee, 
 
 Or if they e'er do not believe 
 
 That thou in time wilt hear our plea, 
 
 Hope of our race, stand by us then, 
 
 And help us "quit ourselves like men.' 
 
 As now we bend before thy throne. 
 Upon us send thy truth and light; 
 
 From us all other hopes are flown — 
 We pray thee, help us in the right. 
 
 Father of lights, thy mercy send 
 
 Upon us, as we lowly bend. 
 
 Lord God, we pray thee help us all 
 To live in harmony and peace; 
 
 Llelp us to listen to thy call. 
 And from all evil-doing cease. 
 
 Hope of our people, hear our cry ; 
 
 Draw near and help us, lest we die. 
 
iS THE Pl:01iLE^[ AND OITIKR TOEMS 
 
 MY CREED"- 
 
 I believe in faith in God, und in niiin, 
 
 1 'oelieve in life and in work, and in lendinjj^ a helpinj^- hand. 
 
 1 believe in Faith, Iiope. and love, thes^e three, and that tlie 
 S^reatest of tliese is hn-e. 
 
 1 believe in the idtirnate converc^ence of systems, and in the 
 ready sympathy of human hearts. 
 
 I believe in the triumph of time, in the ordaining of the course of 
 the ages, and the ruling of the progress of the stars. 
 
 I believe in the development of matter, in the evolution of things, 
 in the final solution of problems, and in the ultimate unfold- 
 ing of mysteries. 
 
 I believe in the failure of the flesh, in the downfall of the material, 
 in the triumph of the invisible, and the supremacy of the unseen. 
 
 I believe in the second emancipation, in the liberty of conscience, 
 in the freedom of the spirit, in the deliverance of the soul. 
 
 I believe in the doom of injustice, in the final failure of prejudice, 
 in the overthrow of evil, and in the final enthronement of 
 good. 
 
 I believe in the kinship of the universe, in the providence o^ 
 Providence, in the fatherhood of God, and in the brotherhood 
 of Christ. 
 
 *This creed first appeared in April, 1904, in The Note-Book, a school peri 
 odical formerly publis^hed in Atlanta, Ga.