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 WASHINGTON, D. C. 
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 CARRIE W. CLIFFORD 
 
 8 
 
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 ^^^m^^^^^^^i^^'^'^^^'^ 
 
RACE RHYMES 
 
 S 
 
 — BY 
 
 CARRIE W. CLIFFORD 
 
 WASHINGTON, D. C 
 19 11 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 R. L. PENDLETON 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 T/]e bequest of 
 ^"^■anle/ Murray, 
 ^^'ashingtofi^ D. C. 
 1925. 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 M°" 
 
 TO MY MOTHER. 
 
 OTHER, Mother, how I loved thee ! 
 id I know thou lov'dst me well ; 
 But the gentle Saviour called thee 
 Home on high with saints to dwell. 
 
 Mother, gentlest of all creatures. 
 Patient, noble, just serene ; 
 
 To me thou wert perfect, ideal ; 
 Equal of thine, ne'er was seen. 
 
 Thou art gone ! but not forgot by 
 Her who loved thee here on earth, 
 
 Mine the sorrow, but for thee of 
 Heavenly joy there is no dearth. 
 
 So I smile in resignation. 
 And repress the bitter pain 
 
 Since my great loss for a brief space, 
 Is for thee, eternal gain. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 "^j^ . -^ N giving to the world this brochure, the author 
 J L I \A makes no claim to unusual poetic excellence or 
 
 
 literarv brilliance. She is seeking to call atten- 
 =t tion to a condition which she, at least, considers 
 serious. Knowing that this may often be done more impres- 
 sively through rhyme than in an elegant prose dissertation, 
 she has taken this method of accomplishing the end sought. 
 
 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 vSong of the Shirt," 
 and similar ones, she sends these lines forth with the prayer that 
 they may change some evil heart, right some wrong and raise 
 some arm strong to deliver. 
 
 c. w. c. 
 
Contents 
 
 B 
 
 Dedication : To My Mother 5 
 
 Preface 7 
 
 America • . . . . 9 
 
 Reply to Tfaos. Dixoti 11 
 
 Atlanta's Sliame ....•• 12 
 
 The Jim Crow Car 13 
 
 Shall We Fight the Jim Crow Car? 15 
 
 To Paul Laurence Dunbar 16 
 
 Lines to Garrison 17 
 
 Foraker and the Tw^enty-Fifth 19 
 
 The Colored Graduate 21 
 
 Duty's Call 22 
 
 Marching to Conquest 23 
 
 My Baby 24 
 
 Character or Color — Which? 25 
 
 The Dreamer 26 
 
 We'll Die for Liberty . . . . ' 28 
 
^^t^^^^^^p^^^^^^w^^^^^^ 
 
 RACE RHYMES 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 America is not another name for opportunity 
 To all her sons ! Nay, bid me not be dumb — 
 I will be heard. Christians, I come 
 To plead with burning eloquence of truth 
 A brother's cause ; ay, to demand, forsooth, 
 The manhood rights of which he is denied ; 
 Too long your pretense have your acts belied. 
 
 What has he done to merit your fierce hate ? 
 I charge you, speak the truth ; for know, his fate 
 Irrevocably is bound up with yours, 
 For good or ill. as long as time endures. 
 Torn from his native home by ruthless hands, 
 For centuries he tilled your fruitful lands, 
 In shameful, base, degrading slavery ; 
 Your humble, patient, loyal vassal, he — 
 Piling your coffers high with magic gold, 
 Himself, the while, like cattle bought and sold. 
 
 When devastating war stalked through the land, 
 And dangers threatened you on every hand, 
 These sons whose color you cannot forgive. 
 Did freely shed their blood that you might live 
 A nation, strong and great. And will you then 
 Continue to debase, degrade, contemn 
 Your loyal children, while with smiling face 
 You raise disloyal ones to power and place? 
 
 Is race or color crime, that for this cause 
 You draft against the Negro unjust laws? 
 Is race or color sin that he should be 
 For these things treated so outrageously ? 
 O, boastful, white American, beware ! 
 It is the handiwork of God you dare 
 Thus to despise and He will you repay 
 
With generous measure overflowing, yea, 
 
 For all the good which in his life you've wrought. 
 
 For helpful deed, or kindly, loving thought — 
 
 For every act of cruelty you've done, 
 
 For every groan which you have from him wrung. 
 
 For every infamy by him endured, 
 
 He will you all repay, be thou assured ! 
 
 Not here alone ere time shall cease to be, 
 
 But likewise There, through all eternity. 
 
A REPLY TO THOS. DIXON. 
 
 We are rising, we are coming ! 
 
 See, the foeman's face grows pale ; 
 He to check our progress onward 
 
 Spreads abroad this scandalous tale 
 
 "Black men are not white men's equal 
 All unworthy's the black race ; 
 Savage, soulless, scarcely human. 
 Doomed fore ver to servile place." 
 
 Shall such foul aspersions daunt us. 
 Will we weaken in our hght? 
 Never! Fighting, we will die for 
 Justice, God and human right. 
 
 We hurl back the defamation. 
 Confound theory with fact. 
 
 Prove by thought, by word, by deed. 
 The falseness of the vile attack. 
 
 There is earnest work before us, 
 There are giants to o'ercome. 
 
 Satan's angels to be vanquished. 
 Grievous wrong to be undone. 
 
 So we press undaunted forward. 
 So we plunge into the fray. 
 
 Rouse the timid lagging rearward. 
 Point them to the breaking day ! 
 
 W^ill success perch on our banner. 
 
 Which we struggle to hold high? 
 F^-^m the valiant hosts who follow 
 Comes a ringing, firm, "Ay, ay !" 
 
 SK 
 
ATLANTA'S SHAME. 
 
 In queenly state she sits at the gateway of the South — 
 And hfts with conscious pride her stately head : 
 
 Fair Atlanta feels her worth, and her children are elate, 
 As thro' her streets they go with happy tread. 
 
 She has sons of many kinds, she has sons of many hues, 
 And she says she cares for all, but this we know, 
 
 Tho' she exacts of each alike service, revenue, respect, 
 The blacks get of her favor but scant show ! 
 
 Yet the harder do they strive her good will and grace 
 to win. 
 Keeping step with progress — forward without pause ! 
 Gaining knowledge, getting wealth, doing all things 
 duly meet. 
 Hoping thus to gain Atlanta's prized applause. 
 
 But alas ! 'tis all in vain, for she hates with bitter hate 
 These poor blacks who aye remind her of her shames ; 
 Of her greed for wealth and power, of her base con- 
 suming lust : 
 Noble striving but the more her wrath inflames. 
 
 Then to hide from honest eyes her blood-guiltiness and 
 sin, 
 She most cunningly contrives a wicked plot — 
 Subtly spoken a base word, then this cry against the 
 blacks 
 Cleaves the night ! "Revenge ! lynch, slaughter and 
 spare not !" 
 
 Three awful nights she reveled in a carnival of crime, 
 Three days or e'er the tension was relieved ; 
 
 When her thirst for blood was sated, the whole nation 
 stood aghast. 
 Her cry of "Rape," no more the world deceived ! 
 
Lamentations, bitter sobs, heart-wrung groans the soft 
 winds bore 
 Thro' the streets where lay the victims of her rage ; 
 Helpless age and guiltless youth, innocence and trust- 
 ing truth — 
 It had taken all, her fury to assuage. 
 
 Dread Atlanta nevermore can the crimson stain erase, 
 Nor the foul blot wipe from off fair history's scroll ; 
 
 This fell deed shall e'er arise, ghost-like from the mists 
 of time 
 To confront and terrify her guilty soul ! 
 
 THE JIM CROW CAR. 
 
 Of all things iniquitous that evil could devise, 
 A thing that men of honor very justly must despise, 
 An institution infamous and more degrading far 
 Than aught I know of, fellow-men, this is the Jim Crow 
 car. 
 
 The good, the bad, the criminal are herded there 
 together ; 
 
 Just so the skin is dark, no white would deign to ques- 
 tion whether 
 
 The heart beneath was pure as gold or was with guilt 
 allied ; 
 
 Not worth but color designates the place where one 
 must ride. 
 
 He may have built, of modern times, the greatest insti- 
 tution 
 For training hands ; or may be of the vilest destitution 
 A perfect sample ; but tho' he be artist, brute or sage. 
 It nothing counts, he goes if black into the "Jim Crow" 
 cage. 
 
He may have won prized scholarships from greatest 
 
 schools of learning. 
 The fire of genius in his soul with mighty brilliance 
 
 burning ; 
 His culture and attainments may indeed be on a par 
 With earth's greatest souls, but he, if black, must seek 
 
 the "Jim Crow" car. 
 
 And shall the strong be e'er deceived with thought that 
 
 might makes right? 
 And shall the weak forever yield God-given right to 
 
 might ? 
 Nay ! think not, puny man, to alter one of God's fixed 
 
 laws. 
 For sure as darkness follows light, effect must follow 
 
 cause. 
 And sure as nations disregard God's changeless plan 
 
 divine 
 To justly deal, show mercy, love and service intertwine. 
 So surely will his judgment fall with vengeance swift 
 
 and true. 
 On all who seek to thwart His will, His mandates to 
 
 eschew. 
 
 And in His gracious message left to comfort breaking 
 hearts 
 
 He promises to rescue all from Satan's fiery darts 
 
 Who keep His law : there, too, we find the blest assur- 
 ance given 
 
 There'll be no caste distinctions in the glorious realm of 
 heaven. 
 
 Nor bond nor free, nor Greek nor Jew, Barbarian. 
 
 Scythian there ; 
 For all are one in Christ, all children of His loving care ; 
 And when at last His little ones have crossed life's 
 
 moaning bar, 
 They'll ride in golden chariots, not in a "Jim Ci 
 
 car. 
 
 -row 
 
 ^''^?^='*^^3^i^^5C4l^i^^^^S[t>^s>^3^ 
 
SHALL WE FIGHT THE JIM CROW CAR? 
 
 Comes the question, loud, insistent. 
 Borne upon the winds afar, 
 In the ears of black men ringing — 
 'Shall we fight the Jim Crow car?" 
 
 Mounts the hot blood to the forehead, 
 Angry passions leap to life 
 At remembered wrongs committed 
 'Gainst a mother, sister, wife. 
 
 And the milk of human kindness 
 In the proud heart turns to gall : 
 Is not every hand against them, 
 Every ear deaf to their call ? 
 
 Disregarded all entreaties, 
 Stern protests unheeded are ; 
 Impotent words or achievements, 
 To remove the color-bar. 
 
 Shall such base, unworthy treatment 
 Be by brave men tamely borne 
 And the title "Non-resistant," 
 As a badge of honor worn? 
 
 No ; by heaven, they swear it, swear it ! 
 List ye, farthest glitt'ring star. 
 Ten thousand black men shout in chorus, 
 '*We will fight the Jim Crow car." 
 
 ?a^^s[4K^^»^2c^s^^f^^a:a^«^^ 
 
THE SINGER AND THE SONG. 
 
 To Paul Laurence Dunbar. 
 
 For oh, his song was so sad to hear ! 
 He sang of the milHons who Hve in fear ; 
 Of those who in anguish and patient pain. 
 Struggle for freedom but struggle in vain. 
 
 For oh, his sorg was so sweet to hear; 
 
 It fell like balm on the listening ear ; 
 
 It told of bright skies, fragrant flowers, green trees, 
 
 And of God the Almighty — Creator of these. 
 
 For oh, his song was so blithe and gay, 
 
 "I will not hold my just anger alway ; 
 
 Tremble ye wicked ones !" Assurance blest. 
 
 And hope brought the song to these children oppressed. 
 
 For oh, his song was sublime, sublime ! 
 
 A glorious burst of music divine ; 
 
 "He whose endurance shall last to the ^wA. 
 
 On him shall heaven's choicest blessings descend." 
 
 So ever he sang as he journeyed along. 
 Cheering the faint heart, rebuking the wrong. 
 Preaching to all the sweet gospel of love ; 
 Teaching of Jesus who reigneth above. 
 But the singer grew weary and sank down to rest, 
 Where he sleeps for a space, folded close to the breast 
 Of old Mother Earth, the song stilled for a day. 
 But our hearts to its music will vibrate alway. 
 
LINES TO GARRISON. 
 
 {Read at His Cefitenary Celebration, Cleveland, Oho.) 
 Read at his centennary celebration, Cleveland, Ohio. 
 Ah, dark and grim and direful were those days, 
 For cursed was our fair land, and torn with cries 
 And groanings loud and terrible, of man 
 Oppressed and tortured by his brother man. 
 The poor, black, naked slave was worked and whipped 
 And scourged ; held, bought and sold as chattel 
 /t the behest of him who styled himself his owner; 
 His body, mind, yea e'en his very soul 
 Was h-M by cruel masters to belong to them ! 
 "How lorg,' O Lord, how long?" wailed these despair- 
 ing ones. 
 As Slavery's cruel bonds grew stronger day by day, 
 More loathsome and unbearable ! 
 While thus they agonized in prayer, beseeching 
 God, the father, for relief from this 
 Distressed and pitiful estate, lo ! 
 Suddenly from out the mists of chaos 
 And confusion, rose a voice commanding. 
 Clear, loud-crying, 'T am in earnest — 
 I will not equivocate — I will not 
 Retreat a single inch — And I will be heard !" 
 Tt was the voice of one who hated slavery 
 As he hated nothing else on earth ; 
 It was the voice of one, who advocated 
 Freedom for all men. 
 It was the voice of Garrison, the brave, 
 Which sounded clear above the tumult, saying — • 
 "Tyrants as all hist'ry shows, must be destroyed !" 
 Alarm fell on the sleek, complacent master. 
 The quiet advocate of abolition likewise started ! 
 DareH he thus boldly agitate for right. 
 Dared he thns forcibly denounce the wrong? 
 
 A nation listened breathless ! 
 Again the voice came ringing, firm, emphatic — ■ 
 "Are we enough to make a revolution? 
 No, but we are enough, one to begin ; 
 And o'^ce begun it cannot be turned back ! 
 I am for revolution, were I utterly alone ; 
 T am there because I must be there; 
 I cannct choose but obey the voice of God !'' 
 
It was enough ! A Christian nation could not, 
 Would not listen to the voice of God. 
 The South cried for his blood ; 
 In Boston he was mobbed ; dragged thro' the streets 
 A rope around his neck, because, forsooth. 
 He dared to speak for Freedom, Justice, Right. 
 But brute force cannot thrust Truth down. 
 Nor mobs with ropes o'ercome it. 
 
 Tho' cast in prison 
 Mocked at, jeered, yet Garrison, the great. 
 Ceased not to plead the cause of the despised slave. 
 He aroused a nation from its lethargy ! 
 The North viewed with dismay, the horrid beast 
 The haughty South was nursing in its breast ; 
 Should this foul thing besmirch Columbia's name ? 
 Should free America, home of the brave. 
 Become a noissome prison house for slaves ! 
 Not if the trenchant pen or mighty voice 
 Of Garrison, the noble, could prevent. 
 By day, by night, in season, out — he passionately 
 Pleaded for his enslaved countrymen. 
 So bold a leader could not long lack friends. 
 Soon honest men became h's staunch allies. 
 The few, became a host ! The little stream 
 Became a flood, resistless, strong, compelling! 
 
 The climax came 
 In a supreme outburst of blood and carnage. 
 The strife was fierce, the struggle desperate; 
 But. glory be to God, the chains were snappe^l. 
 The slaves were freed, and Garrison, immortalized ! 
 
 Peace to thy ashes. Honored Dead ! 
 We come today, thy grave to strew with flowers 
 Of loving words, of honest praise ; we come 
 Ten million of thy countrymen 
 Thy bier to consecrate with fragrant incense 
 Welling up from grateful hearts ! 
 
 ^^s^a^^^^S'^cl^^s^s^SE^^^^^^s^ 
 
FORAKER AND THE TWENTY-FIFTH. 
 
 Who helped Columbia win the day 
 At San Juan Hill and El Carney, 
 When brave men faltered in dismay ? 
 The Twenty-fifth. 
 
 Who welcomed then, their timely aid, 
 Since they to charge were not afraid, 
 But at the foe like demons made? 
 
 Colonel Roosevelt. 
 
 And when the glorious deed was done. 
 The battles fought and victory won, 
 Who honor gave to her dark sons? 
 The Nation. 
 
 Who was it played the scurvy trick, 
 \Mio gave the thrust with his Big Stick 
 That turned br'ght day to darkness thick? 
 Our President. 
 
 Where is the place was struck the blow. 
 The deadly, fatal, unjust blow 
 Our soldier boys' proud heads bowed low ? 
 At Brownsville. 
 
 Discharged without honor or proof of guilt 
 Was this the goal toward which they'd built. 
 The end for which their blood they'd spilt ? 
 O, mighty God! 
 
 Charged with honor up San Juan Hill : 
 Discharged without honor at dread Brownsville, 
 Achieved so grandly — rewarded so ill. 
 These patriots. 
 
And (lid no voice for justice cry, 
 None dare assail the powers high 
 That did the grievous wrong — none ? Ay, 
 Brave Fo raker. 
 
 Alone he hraved the mighty wrath. 
 Alone he dared the lightning s path ; 
 Ila ! braver champion no man hath 
 Than Foraker. 
 
 Defied alone the soldiers' foes. 
 TTimself bared to the cowards' blows ; 
 The price so nobly paid God knows — 
 And Foraker. 
 
 He suffered in a righteous cause. 
 Fought to uphold his country's laws. 
 And won just men's thund'rous applause. 
 Great Foraker. 
 
 AVherever black men's hearts beat high 
 
 For justice, honor, liberty. 
 
 Nor name nor deed shall ever die. 
 
 Of gallant J. B. Foraker 
 
 And if a race's steadfast love 
 A race's loyalty can prove. 
 No other name is loved above 
 
 The name of Foraker. 
 
ALL HAIL! YE COLORED GRADUATES. 
 
 Tune — "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name." 
 All hail, ye colored graduates 
 
 From college and from school ; 
 May high ideals each life inspire 
 
 And sen ice be its rule! 
 
 Let ev'ry citizen and friend 
 
 In our loved country wide, 
 Join in our hearty song of praise 
 
 And share our righteous pride. 
 
 We bid you go as champions brave 
 
 To fight for God and right ; 
 And bring to those who are oppressed 
 
 Great Freedom's glorious light. 
 
 '^>)u'll find the fields for harvest ripe, 
 
 P)Ut laborers very few; 
 'J'hen forth with willing hearts and strong 
 
 The evil to subdue. 
 
 Discouragements will oft confront 
 
 And seek to vanquish you ; 
 P.ut know that naught on earth can thwart 
 
 The man who WILLS to do. 
 
 Then forward, onward, upward go! 
 
 And as you boldly press 
 Your way to life's exalted heights 
 
 The Lord of Hosts will bless. 
 
DUTY'S CALL. 
 
 Come, all ye women, come ! 
 Help 'till the work is done. 
 Help to uplift! 
 
 We must sin's blight remove, 
 By deeds of kindness prove 
 The wondrous power of love. 
 God's greatest gift. 
 
 We must remove the ban 
 Placed on our fellow-man, 
 Thro' Satan's power ; 
 Let us as one unite. 
 Darkness and wrorg to fight. 
 Then will the glorious light 
 lireak in God's hour. 
 
 'Tis now, we must begin ; 
 If we our cause would win; 
 The foe is strong; 
 But we can make him quake. 
 His forces swerve and break 
 When we old earth shall shake 
 With victory's song. 
 
MARCHING TO CONQUEST. 
 
 We are battling for the right with purpose strong and 
 
 true; 
 'Tis a mighty struggle, but we've pledged to dare 
 
 and do ; 
 Pledged to conquer evil and we'll see the conflict thro' 
 Marching and marching to conquest. 
 
 All the noble things of life we'll teach our girls and 
 
 boys, 
 Warn them of its pitfalls and reveal its purest joys, 
 Counsel, guide and keep them from the evil that 
 
 destroys 
 
 As we go marching to conquest. 
 
 Loving confidence and trust must mark our intercourse, 
 Harmony and unity will our success enforce ; 
 Seeking guidance from the Lord of good, the boundless 
 source, 
 
 As we go marching to conquest. 
 
 Come and join our anthem then and raise a mighty 
 
 shout, 
 Sing it with such fervor as will put our foes to rout, 
 Sing it with conviction strong, dispelling every doubt, 
 As we go marching to conquest. 
 
 Women, when our work is o'er and we to rest have 
 
 gone. 
 May our efforts doubled, trebled, still go sweeping on. 
 And the voices of millions swell the volume of our 
 
 song. 
 
 As they go marching to conquest. 
 
 Chorus : 
 
 Hurrah, hurrah, we'll shout the jubilee; 
 Hurrah, hurrah, we'll set the captives free, 
 Ignorance, distrust and hate at our approach shall flee. 
 Marching and marching to conquest. 
 
i^f^^^^^^^^m^^pm^^^^^^t^^^^^m^ 
 
 MY BABY. 
 
 {On /heading ''Souls of Black Folk.'') 
 
 Who loves my baby ? Ah, who loves him not, 
 My beautiful baby, who lies fast asleep ; 
 
 His dimpled brown limbs softly press his white cot. 
 And angels, God's messengers, guard o'er him keep. 
 
 Who hates my baby? Ah. merciful God, 
 
 Thy children — his brothers whose faces are white ; 
 
 "Black skin is a crime : pass thou under the rod," 
 
 They cry ! "This is our country, and might makes us 
 right." 
 
 IMy baby ! immortal soul, dark tho' he be ; 
 
 Where shall I take him for safety and peace, 
 Where in this land of the brave and the free 
 
 Shall baby and I find of terror surcease ? 
 
 Justice, I ask for my baby is all, 
 
 And freedom to grow and expand all his powers ; 
 Then right give the verdict — to stand or to fall — 
 
 While Hatred of Race before Righteousness cowers. 
 
 Then, if my dark baby, unworthy be found, 
 ^ Incompetent, lustful, unfaithful or base, 
 I'll abide by the verdict and utter no sound 
 Agree that beneath is my dark baby's place. 
 
 But glory to God ! who my dark baby gave 
 A mind, soul and being like unto his own 
 
 And sent his dear son my brown baby to save 
 
 From the seeds of corruption the Tempter has sown. 
 
 Right mv baby will place side by side with your child. 
 
 And Right will erase from your heart that fierce hate ; 
 Will you bide by the verdict of Right? Will the wild 
 
 And ignoble prejudice die e'er too late? 
 
 For be thou assured, God's bright angels will guard 
 Aly baby so brown, to the heavenly portal. 
 
 White soul, not white face, shall there gain its reward. 
 For Right keeps the gate to the City Immortal. 
 
CHARACTER OR COLOR— WHICH? 
 
 What is blood, or what is birth? 
 What is black or white? 
 Or small or great, or rich or poor? 
 Just so the man's all right? 
 
 O, vain and haughty white man, why 
 Of ancestry prate so? 
 Can you in tracing your descent. 
 Farther than Adam go? 
 
 W^hy boast of culture ? Well you know. 
 Ere to your present state 
 Of progress and renown you'd come, 
 (With statesmen wise and great — ) 
 
 The blacks had splendidly achieved 
 Long centuries before ; 
 Their monuments, unrivaled still, 
 Adorn old Afric's shore. 
 
 No adventitious circumstance 
 Can fix a people's station. 
 Integrity's the thing that counts 
 In any man or nation. 
 
 Then modestly let's run our course — 
 All hist'ry tells the story : 
 No race but has its page of shame. 
 None lacks its page of glory. 
 
 So what is blood or what is birth? 
 What is black or white? 
 Or great or small, or rich or poor. 
 Just so the man's all right? 
 
THE DREAMER. 
 
 "The Dreamers are the Saviours of the World." 
 So ran the legend writ in letters bold, 
 Upon a page whereon in idle hour, 
 ]\[y listless gaze did chance to rest. Straightway 
 A magic thrill thro' all my being ran 
 And all my powers of mind became at once 
 Instinct with leaping life. Again I gazed — 
 Again with eagerness the page I scanned : 
 Unchanged, the words still boldly graven there 
 *The Dreamers are the Saviours of the World." 
 "And can it be," I thought, this ancient page 
 Doth to my own sweet wild imaginings 
 Lend confirmation strong. Would this bright world 
 Be but a barren waste, a wilderness ; 
 Its human creatures scarcely one remove 
 From birds and beasts, and creeping, crawling things 
 Instead of beirgs, as great God declared 
 But little lower than the angels formed. 
 Did not the Dreamer — Sculptor, Poet, Sage — 
 Keep ever brightly burning life's ideals 
 As beacon lights to comfort, cheer and guide 
 The weary travelers o'er life's rugged way? 
 Still motionless I sat, still pondered o'er 
 The words this ancient tome did speak, dramatic 
 And profound, as 'twere an oracle. 
 The book, unheeded, fell from my lax hand. 
 And back with b'ghtning speed my fancy flew 
 O'er space and time immense and limitless. 
 Before mine eyes a panorama spread, 
 Showirg the great of earth since time began. 
 I saw bold Caesar and Napoleon, 
 St. Francis of Assisi, Socrates, 
 Shakespeare and Froebel. Michael Angelo 
 And all the sacred host of mighty dead. 
 Before me moved the pageant of the years 
 In ghostly pomp and grandeur. I saw again 
 The youthful Joseph, Dreamer of Israel ; 
 Despised of his brethren, cursed and roughly used 
 Because he dreamed the truth they could not grasp. 
 And then, I saw the dream fulfilled, while they, 
 
 26 
 
The former scoffers, bent the suppliant knee, 
 
 In silent tribute to the Dreamer's power. 
 
 When busy Martha cumbered with much care 
 
 Complained that Mary at the Saviour's feet 
 
 In dreamland sat, the gentle Christ replied, 
 
 "Mary hath chosen the better part." I saw 
 
 Columbus, bold and unafraid, set out 
 
 Upon an unknown sea his dream to find 
 
 Come true. Douglass, the slave — the martyr, Brown, 
 
 And Harriet Beecher Stowe, the prophetess, 
 
 Each dreaming of a country free from rule 
 
 (3f grasping greed and heartless tyranny. 
 
 In patience wrought, to bring to pass the dream 
 
 Which men derided — called impossible : 
 
 When lo ! while yet they mocked, it came to pass ! 
 
 "Dreamers," I thought, whose dreams have changed 
 
 the world ! 
 So must it ever be. The Dreamer comes 
 In every age unvalued and condemned. 
 The Doers trooping come, with boisterous haste 
 Millions to one lone Dreamer: failing him, 
 Xo single revolution of the wheel 
 Of progress marks advance, for he alone 
 Can move the world and bring a revelation. 
 The true Idealist does not spend his time 
 In vain and idle musings ; nor does he flee 
 Unfavorable conditions, as a slave. 
 For quarters more secure and genial : 
 I)Ut rather, he is one who patiently 
 And often painfully his life doth shape 
 Harmonious with an inward purpose true, 
 Striving against cold materialism to make 
 The glorious vision in whose light he lives 
 Shine strong and bright before the eyes of men 
 Whose sight less clear discerning is than his. 
 'Tis true that dreams are but the evidence 
 Of things unseen — realities which all 
 Shall one day see and know. Dream lofty dreams. 
 And as you dream, O, Friend, shall you become 
 W^hat you desire, you shall obtain ; and what 
 You shall aspire unto you shall achieve. 
 Your vision is the promise of what you 
 Shall one day be ; your ideal but the prophecy 
 Of what you shall at last unveil ! 
 Then cherish well your vision, cherish fondly 
 Your ideals. O great and noble Dreamer ! 
 
WE'LL DIE FOR LIBERTY. 
 
 We are children of oppression who are struggUng to 
 
 be free 
 From injustice, and the galling yoke of color-tyranny; 
 Our small band is facing bravely a relentless enemy. 
 But we go fighting on. 
 
 For liberty we'll bare our breasts, and this our cry 
 
 shall be : 
 ''Equal rights and equal justice, equal opportunity," 
 Undaunted we will face the foe and fight right valiantly 
 To victory marching on. 
 
 In the name of Christ our Lord who suffered death 
 
 upon the tree, 
 And of the Constitution, our proud country's guarantee, 
 And of the flag which over all should wave protectingly 
 We'll strike for liberty. 
 
 Thus strongly fortified in right we'll strive triumph- 
 antly. 
 
 Till the glorious light of Freedom's torch shall flame 
 from sea to sea ; 
 
 And all the children of our land shall dwell in amity, 
 As Truth goes marching on. 
 
 Then list, ye Sons of Morning, to a weaker brother's 
 plea, 
 
 And barken. Hosts of Darkness, to our Heaven- 
 inspired decree : 
 
 As He died to make men holy we will die for liberty, 
 Thou, God, the issue keep. 
 
 Chorus : Glory, glory, hallelujah ! 1 1 
 We'll die for liberty ! 
 
 1 1 Repeat three times. 
 
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