Volume II Part 24 (2/2)

VIII.

And still G.o.d's suns.h.i.+ne and His frost, They make us hot, they make us cold, As if we were not black and lost; And the beasts and birds, in wood and fold, Do fear and take us for very men: Could the whip-poor-will or the cat of the glen Look into my eyes and be bold?

IX.

I am black, I am black!

But, once, I laughed in girlish glee, For one of my colour stood in the track Where the drivers drove, and looked at me, And tender and full was the look he gave-- Could a slave look _so_ at another slave?-- I look at the sky and the sea.

X.

And from that hour our spirits grew As free as if unsold, unbought: Oh, strong enough, since we were two, To conquer the world, we thought.

The drivers drove us day by day; We did not mind, we went one way, And no better a freedom sought.

XI.

In the sunny ground between the canes, He said ”I love you” as he pa.s.sed; When the s.h.i.+ngle-roof rang sharp with the rains, I heard how he vowed it fast: While others shook he smiled in the hut, As he carved me a bowl of the cocoa-nut Through the roar of the hurricanes.

XII.

I sang his name instead of a song, Over and over I sang his name, Upward and downward I drew it along My various notes,--the same, the same!

I sang it low, that the slave-girls near Might never guess, from aught they could hear, It was only a name--a name.

XIII.

I look on the sky and the sea.

We were two to love, and two to pray: Yes, two, O G.o.d, who cried to Thee, Though nothing didst Thou say!

Coldly Thou sat'st behind the sun: And now I cry who am but one, Thou wilt not speak to-day.

XIV.

We were black, we were black, We had no claim to love and bliss, What marvel if each went to wrack?

They wrung my cold hands out of his, They dragged him--where? I crawled to touch His blood's mark in the dust ... not much, Ye pilgrim-souls, though plain as _this_!

XV.

Wrong, followed by a deeper wrong!

Mere grief's too good for such as I: So the white men brought the shame ere long To strangle the sob of my agony.

They would not leave me for my dull Wet eyes!--it was too merciful To let me weep pure tears and die.

XVI.

I am black, I am black!

I wore a child upon my breast, An amulet that hung too slack, And, in my unrest, could not rest: Thus we went moaning, child and mother, One to another, one to another, Until all ended for the best.

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