The poem for today is by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper a free black woman who lived between 1825-1911. She worked for the underground rail road and lectured on the need to end slavery. BURY ME IN A FREE LAND You may make my grave wherever you will, In a lowly vale or a lofty hill You may make it among earths humblest graves, But not in a land where men are slaves. I could not sleep if around my grave I heard the steps of a trembling slave; His shadow above my silent tomb Would make it a place of fearful gloom. I could not rest if I heard the tread Of a coffle-gang to the shambles led, And the mothers shriek of wild despaair Rise like a curse on the trembling air. I could not rest if I heard the lash Drinking her blood at each fearful gash, And I saw her babes torn from her breast Like trembling doves from their parent nest. Id shudder and start, if I heard the bay Of the bloodhounds seizing their human prey; If I heard the captive plead in vain As they tightened afresh his galling chain . If I saw young girls, from their mothers arms Bartered and sold for their youthful charm My eye would flash with a mournful flame, My death paled cheek grow red with shame. I would sleep, dear friends, where bloated might Can rob no man of his dearest right; My rest shall be calm in any grave Where none calls his brother a slave. I ask no monument proud and high To arrest the gaze of passers by; All that my spirit yearning craves, Is--bury me not in the land of slaves.
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 11:54:30 +0000
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