The Book of American Negro Poetry Part 23

But glory to the Lamb, I shout!

Ding, Dong, Ding.

My bruthah jus' sent word to me, Ding, Dong, Ding.

That he'd done set his own self free.

Ding, Dong, Ding.

Ole ma.s.sa said he could not go, Ding, Dong, Ding.

But he's done reached Ohio sho'.

Ding, Dong, Ding.

Ise gwine to be real nice an' meek, Ding, Dong, Ding.

Den I'll run away myself nex' week.

Ding, Dong, Ding.

_Chorus_

Oh, the big bell's tollin' up in Zion, The big bell's tollin' up in Zion, The big bell's tollin' up in Zion, Ding, Dong Ding.

Lucian B. Watkins

STAR OF ETHIOPIA

Out in the Night thou art the sun Toward which thy soul-charmed children run, The faith-high height whereon they see The glory of their Day To Be-- The peace at last when all is done.

The night is dark but, one by one, Thy signals, ever and anon, Smile beacon answers to their plea, Out in the Night.

Ah, Life! thy storms these cannot shun; Give them a hope to rest upon, A dream to dream eternally, The strength of men who would be free And win the battle race begun, Out in the Night!

TWO POINTS OF VIEW

From this low-lying valley; Oh, how sweet And cool and calm and great is life, I ween, There on yon mountain-throne--that sun-gold crest!

From this uplifted, mighty mountain-seat: How bright and still and warm and soft and green Seems yon low lily-vale of peace and rest!

TO OUR FRIENDS

We've kept the faith. Our souls' high dreams Untouched by bondage and its rod, Burn on! and on! and on! It seems We shall have FRIENDS--while G.o.d is G.o.d!

Benjamin Brawley

MY HERO

(_To Robert Gould Shaw_)

Flushed with the hope of high desire, He buckled on his sword, To dare the rampart ranged with fire, Or where the thunder roared; Into the smoke and flame he went, For G.o.d's great cause to die-- A youth of heaven's element, The flower of chivalry.

This was the gallant faith, I trow, Of which the sages tell; On such devotion long ago The benediction fell; And never n.o.bler martyr burned, Or braver hero died, Than he who worldly honor spurned To serve the Crucified.

And Lancelot and Sir Bedivere May pa.s.s beyond the pale, And wander over moor and mere To find the Holy Grail;

But ever yet the prize forsooth My hero holds in fee; And he is Blameless Knight in truth, And Galahad to me.

CHAUCER

Gone are the sensuous stars, and manifold, Clear sunbeams burst upon the front of night; Ten thousand swords of azure and of gold Give darkness to the dark and welcome light; Across the night of ages strike the gleams, And leading on the gilded host appears An old man writing in a book of dreams, And telling tales of lovers for the years; Still Troilus hears a voice that whispers, Stay; In Nature's garden what a mad rout sings!

Let's hear these motley pilgrims wile away The tedious hours with stories of old things; Or might some s.h.i.+ning eagle claim These lowly numbers for the House of Fame!

Joshua Henry Jones, Jr.

TO A SKULL

Ghastly, ghoulish, grinning skull, Toothless, eyeless, hollow, dull, Why your smirk and empty smile As the hours away you wile?

Has the earth become such bore That it pleases nevermore?

Whence your joy through sun and rain?

Is 't because of loss of pain?

Have you learned what men learn not That earth's substance turns to rot?

After learning now you scan Vain endeavors man by man?

Do you mind that you as they Once was held by mystic sway; Dreamed and struggled, hoped and prayed, Lolled and with the minutes played?

Sighed for honors; battles planned; Sipped of cups that wisdom banned But would please the weak frail flesh; Suffered, fell, 'rose, struggled fresh?

Now that you are but a skull Glimpse you life as life is, full Of beauties that we miss Till time withers with his kiss?

Do you laugh in cynic vein Since you cannot try again?

And you know that we, like you, Will too late our failings rue?

Tell me, ghoulish, grinning skull What deep broodings, o'er you mull?

Tell me why you smirk and smile Ere I pa.s.s life's sunset stile.

APPENDIX

PLaCIDO'S SONNET TO HIS MOTHER