Poetry

Poetry
By James Weldon Johnson.




Imprint

This ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for  Standard Ebooks, and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain.
This particular ebook is based on a transcription produced for Project Gutenberg ( Fifty Years & Other Poems and  The Book of American Negro Poetry) and on digital scans available at the Internet Archive ( Fifty Years & Other Poems and  The Book of American Negro Poetry) and at  Google Books.
The writing and artwork within are believed to be in the  U.S. public domain, and Standard Ebooks releases this ebook edition under the terms in the  CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication. For full license information, see the  Uncopyright at the end of this ebook.
Standard Ebooks is a volunteer-driven project that produces ebook editions of public domain literature using modern typography, technology, and editorial standards, and distributes them free of cost. You can download this and other ebooks carefully produced for true book lovers at  standardebooks.org.

 
Lift Ev’ry Voice and Sing
Lift ev’ry voice and sing

Till earth and heaven ring.

Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;

Let our rejoicing rise

High as the list’ning skies,

Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us.

Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,

Let us march on till victory is won.
Stony the road we trod,

Bitter the chast’ning rod.

Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;

Yet with a steady beat,

Have not our weary feet

Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered,

We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,

Out from the gloomy past,

Till now we stand at last

Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.
God of our weary years,

God of our silent tears,

Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;

Thou who has by Thy might

Led us into the light.

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,

Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee,

Shadowed beneath Thy hand,

May we forever stand.

True to our God

True to our native land.

 


Fifty Years
(1863⁠–⁠1913)

On the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Signing of the Emancipation Proclamation

O brothers mine, to-day we stand

Where half a century sweeps our ken,

Since God, through Lincoln’s ready hand,

Struck off our bonds and made us men.
Just fifty years⁠—a winter’s day⁠—

As runs the history of a race;

Yet, as we look back o’er the way,

How distant seems our starting place!
Look farther back! Three centuries!

To where a naked, shivering score,

Snatched from their haunts across the seas,

Stood, wild-eyed, on Virginia’s shore.
This land is ours by right of birth,

This land is ours by right of toil;

We helped to turn its virgin earth,

Our sweat is in its fruitful soil.
Where once the tangled forest stood⁠—

Where flourished once rank weed and thorn⁠—

Behold the path-traced, peaceful wood,

The cotton white, the yellow corn.
To gain these fruits that have been earned,

To hold these fields that have been won,

Our arms have strained, our backs have burned,

Bent bare beneath a ruthless sun.
That Banner which is now the type

Of victory on field and flood⁠—

Remember, its first crimson stripe

Was dyed by Attucks’ willing blood.
And never yet has come the cry⁠—

When that fair flag has been assailed⁠—

For men to do, for men to die,

That we have faltered or have failed.
We’ve helped to bear it, rent and torn,

Through many a hot-breath’d battle breeze

Held in our hands, it has been borne

And planted far across the seas.
And never yet⁠—O haughty Land,

Let us, at least, for this be praised⁠—

Has one black, treason-guided hand

Ever against that flag been raised.
Then should we speak but servile words,

Or shall we hang our heads in shame?

Stand back of new-come foreign hordes,

And fear our heritage to claim?
No! stand erect and without fear,

And for our foes let this suffice⁠—

We’ve bought a rightful sonship here,

And we have more than paid the price.
And yet, my brothers, well I know

The tethered feet, the pinioned wings,

The spirit bowed beneath the blow,