Chapter 1
Produced by Judith Boss
Poems
By
FRANCES E. W. HARPER
The Black Heritage Library Collection
First Published 1895
POEMS
BY
FRANCES E. W. HARPER
Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations. ISAIAH 60:15.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
My Mother's Kiss . . . . . . . . . . 1 A Grain of Sand . . . . . . . . . . 3 The Crocuses . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 The Present Age . . . . . . . . . . 6 Dedication Poem . . . . . . . . . . 9 A Double Standard . . . . . . . . . 12 Our Hero . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 The Dying Bondman . . . . . . . . . 17 A Little Child Shall Lead Them . . . 19 The Sparrow's Fall . . . . . . . . . 21 God Bless Our Native Land . . . . . 23 Dandelions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 The Building . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Home, Sweet Home . . . . . . . . . . 26 The Pure in Heart Shall See God . . 28 He Had Not Where to Lay His Head . . 30 Go Work in My Vineyard . . . . . . . 31 Renewal of Strength . . . . . . . . 33 Jamie's Puzzle . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Truth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Death of the Old Sea King . . . . . 38 Save the Boys . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Nothing and Something . . . . . . . 42 Vashti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 Thank God for Little Children . . . 47 The Martyr of Alabama . . . . . . . 49 The Night of Death . . . . . . . . . 53 Mother's Treasures . . . . . . . . . 56 The Refiner's Gold . . . . . . . . . 58 A Story of the Rebellion . . . . . . 60 Burial of Sarah . . . . . . . . . . 61 Going East . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 The Hermit's Sacrifice . . . . . . . 66 Songs for the People . . . . . . . . 69 Let the Light Enter . . . . . . . . 71 An Appeal to My Country Women . . . 72
MY MOTHER'S KISS.
My mother's kiss, my mother's kiss, I feel its impress now; As in the bright and happy days She pressed it on my brow.
You say it is a fancied thing Within my memory fraught; To me it has a sacred place-- The treasure house of thought.
Again, I feel her fingers glide Amid my clustering hair; I see the love-light in her eyes, When all my life was fair.
Again, I hear her gentle voice In warning or in love. How precious was the faith that taught My soul of things above.
(1)
2 MY MOTHER'S KISS.
The music of her voice is stilled, Her lips are paled in death. As precious pearls I'll clasp her words Until my latest breath.
The world has scattered round my path Honor and wealth and fame; But naught so precious as the thoughts That gather round her name.
And friends have placed upon my brow The laurels of renown; But she first taught me how to wear My manhood as a crown.
My hair is silvered o'er with age, I'm longing to depart; To clasp again my mother's hand, And be a child at heart.
To roam with her the glory-land Where saints and angels greet; To cast our crowns with songs of love At our Redeemer's feet.
A GRAIN OF SAND. 3
A GRAIN OF SAND.
Do you see this grain of sand Lying loosely in my hand? Do you know to me it brought Just a simple loving thought? When one gazes night by night On the glorious stars of light, Oh how little seems the span Measured round the life of man.
Oh! how fleeting are his years With their smiles and their tears; Can it be that God does care For such atoms as we are? Then outspake this grain of sand "I was fashioned by His hand In the star lit realms of space I was made to have a place.
"Should the ocean flood the world, Were its mountains 'gainst me hurled All the force they could employ Wouldn't a single grain destroy; And if I, a thing so light, Have a place within His sight; You are linked unto his throne Cannot live nor die alone.
4 THE CROCUSES.
In the everlasting arms Mid life's dangers and alarms Let calm trust your spirit fill; Know He's God, and then be still." Trustingly I raised my head Hearing what the atom said; Knowing man is greater far Than the brightest sun or star.
THE CROCUSES.
They heard the South wind sighing A murmur of the rain; And they knew that Earth was longing To see them all again.
While the snow-drops still were sleeping Beneath the silent sod; They felt their new life pulsing Within the dark, cold clod.
Not a daffodil nor daisy Had dared to raise its head; Not a fairhaired dandelion Peeped timid from its bed;
THE CROCUSES. 5
Though a tremor of the winter Did shivering through them run; Yet they lifted up their foreheads To greet the vernal sun.
And the sunbeams gave them welcome. As did the morning air And scattered o'er their simple robes Rich tints of beauty rare.
Soon a host of lovely flowers From vales and woodland burst; But in all that fair procession The crocuses were first.
First to weave for Earth a chaplet To crown her dear old head; And to beautify the pathway Where winter still did tread.
And their loved and white haired mother Smiled sweetly 'neath the touch, When she knew her faithful children Were loving her so much.
6 THE PRESENT AGE.
THE PRESENT AGE.
Say not the age is hard and cold-- I think it brave and grand; When men of diverse sects and creeds Are clasping hand in hand.
The Parsee from his sacred fires Beside the Christian kneels; And clearer light to Islam's eyes The word of Christ reveals.
The Brahmin from his distant home Brings thoughts of ancient lore; The Bhuddist breaking bonds of caste Divides mankind no more.
The meek-eyed sons of far Cathay Are welcome round the board; Not greed, nor malice drives away These children of our Lord.
And Judah from whose trusted hands Came oracles divine; Now sits with those around whose hearts The light of God doth shine.
THE PRESENT AGE. 7
Japan unbars her long sealed gates From islands far away; Her sons are lifting up their eyes To greet the coming day.
The Indian child from forests wild Has learned to read and pray; The tomahawk and scalping knife From him have passed away.
From centuries of servile toil The Negro finds release, And builds the fanes of prayer and praise Unto the God of Peace.
England and Russia face to face With Central Asia meet; And on the far Pacific coast, Chinese and natives greet.
Crusaders once with sword and shield The Holy Land to save; From Moslem hands did strive to clutch The dear Redeemer's grave.
A battle greater, grander far Is for the present age;
8 THE PRESENT AGE.
A crusade for the rights of man To brighten history's page.
Where labor faints and bows her head, And want consorts with crime; Or men grown faithless sadly say That evil is the time.
There is the field, the vantage ground For every earnest heart; To side with justice, truth and right And act a noble part.
To save from ignorance and vice The poorest, humblest child; To make our age the fairest one On which the sun has smiled;
To plant the roots of coming years In mercy, love and truth; And bid our weary, saddened earth Again renew her youth.
Oh! earnest hearts! toil on in hope, 'Till darkness shrinks from light; To fill the earth with peace and joy, Let youth and age unite:
DEDICATION POEM. 9
To stay the floods of sin and shame That sweep from shore to shore; And furl the banners stained with blood, 'Till war shall be no more.
Blame not the age, nor think it full Of evil and unrest; But say of every other age, "This one shall be the best."
The age to brighten every path By sin and sorrow trod; For loving hearts to usher in The commonwealth of God.
DEDICATION POEM.
Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex to the home for aged colored people, from the bequest of Mr. Edward T. Parker.
Outcast from her home in Syria In the lonely, dreary wild; Heavy hearted, sorrow stricken, Sat a mother and her child.
10 DEDICATION POEM.
There was not a voice to cheer her Not a soul to share her fate; She was weary, he was fainting, And life seemed so desolate.
Far away in sunny Egypt Was lone Hagar's native land; Where the Nile in kingly bounty Scatters bread with gracious hand.
In the tents of princely Abram She for years had found a home; Till the stern decree of Sarah Sent her forth the wild to roam.
Hour by hour she journeyed onward From the shelter of their tent, Till her footsteps slowly faltered And the water all was spent;
Then she veiled her face in sorrow, Feared her child would die of thirst Till her eyes with tears so holden Saw a sparkling fountain burst.
Oh! how happy was that mother, What a soothing of her pain;
DEDICATION POEM. 11
When she saw her child reviving, Life rejoicing through each vein
Does not life repeat this story, Tell it over day by day? Of the fountains of refreshment Ever springing by our way.
Here is one by which we gather, On this bright and happy day, Just to bask beside a fountain Making gladder life's highway.
Bringing unto hearts now aged Who have borne life's burdens long, Such a gift of love and mercy As deserves our sweetest song.
Such a gift that even heaven May rejoice with us below, If the pure and holy angels Join us in our joy and woe.
May the memory of the giver In this home where age may rest, Float like fragrance through the ages, Ever blessing, ever blest.
12 A DOUBLE STANDARD.
When the gates of pearl are opened May we there this friend behold, Drink with him from living fountains, Walk with him the streets of gold.
When life's shattered cords of music Shall again be sweetly sung; Then our hearts with life immortal, Shall be young, forever young.
A DOUBLE STANDARD.
Do you blame me that I loved him? If when standing all alone I cried for bread a careless world Pressed to my lips a stone.
Do you blame me that I loved him, That my heart beat glad and free, When he told me in the sweetest tones He loved but only me?
Can you blame me that I did not see Beneath his burning kiss The serpent's wiles, nor even hear The deadly adder hiss?
A DOUBLE STANDARD. 13
Can you blame me that my heart grew cold The tempted, tempter turned; When he was feted and caressed And I was coldly spurned?
Would you blame him, when you draw from me Your dainty robes aside, If he with gilded baits should claim Your fairest as his bride?
Would you blame the world if it should press On him a civic crown; And see me struggling in the depth Then harshly press me down?
Crime has no sex and yet to-day I wear the brand of shame; Whilst he amid the gay and proud Still bears an honored name.
Can you blame me if I've learned to think Your hate of vice a sham, When you so coldly crushed me down And then excused the man?
Would you blame me if to-morrow The coroner should say,
14 A DOUBLE STANDARD.
A wretched girl, outcast, forlorn, Has thrown her life away?
Yes, blame me for my downward course, But oh! remember well, Within your homes you press the hand That led me down to hell.
I'm glad God's ways are not our ways He does not see as man; Within His love I know there's room For those whom others ban.
I think before His great white throne, His throne of spotless light, That whited sepulchres shall wear The hue of endless night.
That I who fell, and he who sinned, Shall reap as we have sown; That each the burden of his loss Must bear and bear alone.
No golden weights can turn the scale Of justice in His sight; And what is wrong in woman's life In man's cannot be right.
OUR HERO. 15
OUR HERO.
Onward to her destination, O'er the stream the Hannah sped, When a cry of consternation Smote and chilled our hearts with dread.
Wildly leaping, madly sweeping, All relentless in their sway, Like a band of cruel demons Flames were closing 'round our way
Oh! the horror of those moments; Flames above and waves below-- Oh! the agony of ages Crowded in one hour of woe.
Fainter grew our hearts with anguish In that hour with peril rife, When we saw the pilot flying, Terror-stricken, for his life.
Then a man uprose before us-- We had once despised his race-- But we saw a lofty purpose Lighting up his darkened face.
16 OUR HERO.
While the flames were madly roaring, With a courage grand and high, Forth he rushed unto our rescue, Strong to suffer, brave to die.
Helplessly the boat was drifting, Death was staring in each face, When he grasped the fallen rudder, Took the pilot's vacant place.
Could he save us? Would he save us? All his hope of life give o'er? Could he hold that fated vessel 'Till she reached the nearer shore?
All our hopes and fears were centered 'Round his strong, unfaltering hand; If he failed us we must perish, Perish just in sight of land.
Breathlessly we watched and waited While the flames were raging fast; When our anguish changed to rapture-- We were saved, yes, saved at last.
Never strains of sweetest music Brought to us more welcome sound
THE DYING BONDMAN. 17
Than the grating of that steamer When her keel had touched the ground.
But our faithful martyr hero Through a fiery pathway trod, Till he laid his valiant spirit On the bosom of his God.
Fame has never crowned a hero On the crimson fields of strife, Grander, nobler, than that pilot Yielding up for us his life.
THE DYING BONDMAN.
Life was trembling, faintly trembling On the bondman's latest breath, And he felt the chilling pressure Of the cold, hard hand of Death.
He had been an Afric chieftain, Worn his manhood as a crown; But upon the field of battle Had been fiercely stricken down.
18 THE DYING BONDMAN.
He had longed to gain his freedom, Waited, watched and hoped in vain, Till his life was slowly ebbing-- Almost broken was his chain.
By his bedside stood the master, Gazing on the dying one, Knowing by the dull grey shadows That life's sands were almost run.
"Master," said the dying bondman, "Home and friends I soon shall see; But before I reach my country, Master write that I am free;
"For the spirits of my fathers Would shrink back from me in pride, If I told them at our greeting I a slave had lived and died;
"Give to me the precious token, That my kindred dead may see-- Master! write it, write it quickly! Master! write that I am free!"
At his earnest plea the master Wrote for him the glad release,
"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM." 19
O'er his wan and wasted features Flitted one sweet smile of peace.
Eagerly he grasped the writing; "I am free!" at last he said. Backward fell upon the pillow, He was free among the dead.
"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."
Only a little scrap of blue Preserved with loving care, But earth has not a brilliant hue To me more bright and fair.
Strong drink, like a raging demon, Laid on my heart his hand, When my darling joined with others The Loyal Legion * band.
But mystic angels called away My loved and precious child, And o'er life's dark and stormy way Swept waves of anguish wild.
* The Temperance Band,
20 "A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."
This badge of the Loyal Legion We placed upon her breast, As she lay in her little coffin Taking her last sweet rest.
To wear that badge as a token She earnestly did crave, So we laid it on her bosom To wear it in the grave.
Where sorrow would never reach her Nor harsh words smite her ear; Nor her eyes in death dimmed slumber Would ever shed a tear.
"What means this badge?" said her father, Whom we had tried to save; Who said, when we told her story, "Don't put it in the grave."
We took the badge from her bosom And laid it on a chair; And men by drink deluded Knelt by that badge in prayer.
And vowed in that hour of sorrow From drink they would abstain;
THE SPARROW'S FALL. 21
And this little badge became the wedge Which broke their galling chain.
And lifted the gloomy shadows That overspread my life, And flooding my home with gladness, Made me a happy wife.
And this is why this scrap of blue Is precious in my sight; It changed my sad and gloomy home From darkness into light.
THE SPARROW'S FALL.
Too frail to soar--a feeble thing-- It fell to earth with fluttering wing; But God, who watches over all, Beheld that little sparrow's fall.
'Twas not a bird with plumage gay, Filling the air with its morning lay; 'Twas not an eagle bold and strong, Borne on the tempest's wing along.
22 THE SPARROW'S FALL.
Only a brown and weesome thing, With drooping head and listless wing; It could not drift beyond His sight Who marshals the splendid stars of night.
Its dying chirp fell on His ears, Who tunes the music of the spheres, Who hears the hungry lion's call, And spreads a table for us all.
Its mission of song at last is done, No more will it greet the rising sun; That tiny bird has found a rest More calm than its mother's downy breast
Oh, restless heart, learn thou to trust In God, so tender, strong and just; In whose love and mercy everywhere His humblest children have a share.
If in love He numbers ev'ry hair, Whether the strands be dark or fair, Shall we not learn to calmly rest, Like children, on our Father's breast?
GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND. 23
GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND.
God bless our native land, Land of the newly free, Oh may she ever stand For truth and liberty.
God bless our native land, Where sleep our kindred dead, Let peace at thy command Above their graves be shed.
God help our native land, Bring surcease to her strife, And shower from thy hand A more abundant life.
God bless our native land, Her homes and children bless, Oh may she ever stand For truth and righteousness.
24 DANDELIONS.
DANDELIONS.
Welcome children of the Spring, In your garbs of green and gold, Lifting up your sun-crowned heads On the verdant plain and wold.
As a bright and joyous troop From the breast of earth ye came Fair and lovely are your cheeks, With sun-kisses all aflame.
In the dusty streets and lanes, Where the lowly children play, There as gentle friends ye smile, Making brighter life's highway
Dewdrops and the morning sun, Weave your garments fair and bright, And we welcome you to-day As the children of the light.
Children of the earth and sun. We are slow to understand All the richness of the gifts Flowing from our Father's hand.
THE BUILDING. 25
Were our vision clearer far, In this sin-dimmed world of ours, Would we not more thankful be For the love that sends us flowers?
Welcome, early visitants, With your sun-crowned golden hair, With your message to our hearts Of our Father's loving care.
THE BUILDING.
"Build me a house," said the Master, "But not on the shifting sand, Mid the wreck and roar of tempests, A house that will firmly stand.
"I will bring thee windows of agates, And gates of carbuncles bright, And thy fairest courts and portals Shall be filled with love and light.
"Thou shalt build with fadeless rubies, All fashioned around the throne, A house that shall last forever, With Christ as the cornerstone.
26 HOME, SWEET HOME.
"It shall be a royal mansion, A fair and beautiful thing, It will be the presence-chamber Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.
"Thy house shall be bound with pinions To mansions of rest above, But grace shall forge all the fetters With the links and cords of love.
"Thou shalt be free in this mansion From sorrow and pain of heart, For the peace of God shall enter, And never again depart."
HOME, SWEET HOME.
Sharers of a common country, They had met in deadly strife; Men who should have been as brothers Madly sought each other's life.
In the silence of the even, When the cannon's lips were dumb,
HOME, SWEET HOME. 27
Thoughts of home and all its loved ones To the soldier's heart would come.
On the margin of a river, 'Mid the evening's dews and damps, Could be heard the sounds of music Rising from two hostile camps.
One was singing of its section Down in Dixie, Dixie's land, And the other of the banner Waved so long from strand to strand.
In the land where Dixie's ensign Floated o'er the hopeful slave, Rose the song that freedom's banner, Starry-lighted, long might wave.
From the fields of strife and carnage, Gentle thoughts began to roam, And a tender strain of music Rose with words of "Home, Sweet Home."
Then the hearts of strong men melted, For amid our grief and sin Still remains that "touch of nature," Telling us we all are kin.
28 THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.
In one grand but gentle chorus, Floating to the starry dome, Came the words that brought them nearer, Words that told of "Home, Sweet Home."
For awhile, all strife forgotten, They were only brothers then, Joining in the sweet old chorus, Not as soldiers, but as men.
Men whose hearts would flow together, Though apart their feet might roam, Found a tie they could not sever, In the mem'ry of each home.
Never may the steps of carnage Shake our land from shore to shore, But may mother, home and Heaven, Be our watchwords evermore.
THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.
They shall see Him in the crimson flush Of morning's early light, In the drapery of sunset, Around the couch of night.
THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD. 29
When the clouds drop down their fatness, In late and early rain, They shall see His glorious footprints On valley, hill and plain.
They shall see Him when the cyclone Breathes terror through the land; They shall see Him 'mid the murmurs Of zephyrs soft and bland.
They shall see Him when the lips of health, Breath vigor through each nerve, When pestilence clasps hands with death, His purposes to serve.
They shall see Him when the trembling earth Is rocking to and fro; They shall see Him in the order The seasons come and go.
They shall see Him when the storms of war Sweep wildly through the land; When peace descends like gentle dew They still shall see His hand.
They shall see Him in the city Of gems and pearls of light,
30 NOWHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD.
They shall see Him in his beauty, And walk with Him in white.
To living founts their feet shall tend, And Christ shall be their guide, Beloved of God, their rest shall be In safety by His side.
HE "HAD NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD."
The conies had their hiding-place, The wily fox with stealthy tread A covert found, but Christ, the Lord, Had not a place to lay his head.
The eagle had an eyrie home, The blithesome bird its quiet rest, But not the humblest spot on earth Was by the Son of God possessed.