I.

        I stand on the shore

        Of t we pilgrims bended knee,

        uro aor,

        And God y.

        I , my skin is as dark,

        I bend my knee dohis mark . . .

        I look on the sea.

        II.

        O pilgrim-souls, I speak to you!

        I see you e out proud and slow

        From ts pale as dew. . .

        And round me and round me ye go!

        O pilgrims, I have gasped and run

        All nighe whips of one

        ho in your names works sin and woe.

        III.

        And t t I would e

        And kneel    before,

        And feel your souls around me hum

        In uoo the os roar;

        And lift my black face, my black hand,

        o curse this land

        Ye blessed in freedoms evermore.

        IV.

        I am black, I am black;

        A God made me, they say.

        But if he did so, smiling back

        his work away

        U of e creatures,

        it tures

        Migrodden again to clay.

        V.

        A hings

        to be glad and merry as light.

        ttle dark bird sits and sings;

        tream ripples out of sight;

        And t in the safe morass,

        A stars are made to pass

        Oer t night.

        VI.

        But we who are dark, we are dark!

        Aars!

        About our souls in care and cark

        Our blaess ss like prison bars:

        the poor souls crouch so far behind,

        t never a fort    they find

        By reache prison-bars.

        VII.

        Indeed, he sky, . . .

        t great smootretc

        On all herly,

        to bless t,

        his low place,

        All operaigo his face

        Into ternity.

        VIII.

        And still Gods suns,

        t, they make us cold,

        As if    blad lost:

        And ts and birds, in wood and fold,

        Do fear and take us for very men!

        Could t 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 track

        me--

        And tender and full he look he gave:

        Could a slave look so at another slave?--

        I look at the sea.

        X.

        And from t s grew

        As free as if unsold, unbought:

        enougwo

        to quer t!

        the drivers drove us day by day;

        e did not mind,    one way,

        And er a liberty sought.

        XI.

        In the es,

        ;I love you" as he passed:

        he rains,

        I    fast:

        As ,

        the hurries.

        XII.

        I sang ead of a song;

        Over and over I sang his name--

        Up along

        My various he same!

        I sang it lo the slave-girls near

        Mig they could hear,

        It was only a name.

        XIII.

        I look on the sea--

        e o love, and to pray,--

        Yes, thee,

        t thou say.

        Coldly tst behe sun!

        And now I cry w one,

        to-day?--

        XIV.

        e were black, we were black!

        e o love and bliss:

        marvel, if eaed to lack?

        t of his,--

        to touch

        ! . . . not much,

        Ye pilgrim-souls, . . . this!

        XV.

        rong, followed by a deeper wrong!

        Mere griefs too good for such as I.

        So te men broughe shame ere long

        tle the sob of my agony.

        t leave me for my dull

        et eyes!--it oo merciful

        to let me ears and die.

        XVI.

        I am black, I am black!--

        I wore a c

        An amulet t oo slack,

        And, in my u, could not rest:

        t moaning, cher,

        Oo anoto another,

        Until all ended for t:

        XVII.

        For ell you low . . . Iow . . .

        I am black, you see,--

        And the babe who lay on my bosom so,

        as far too oo we for me;

        As o pray

        Beside me at c yesterday;

        tears had washed a play knee.

        XVIII.

        My own, own c bear

        to look in    was so we.

        I covered here;

        I covered ight:

        And ruggled, as    be,

        For te ced y--

        ed er right.

        XIX.

        ,

        tle feet t never grew--

        ruck t, as it ,

        Against my    to break it through.

        I might have sung and made him mild--

        But I dared not sing to te-faced child

        the only song I knew.

        XX.

        I pulled the kerchief very close:

        see the sun, I swear,

        More, than now he does

        From bets of the mango . . . where

        . . . I know wher

        Do o look at one another,

        hen one is blad one is fair.

        XXI.

        single glance I had

        Of my cell you all,

        I sa made me mad . . .

        ters look, t used to fall

        On my soul like his lash . . . or worse!

        And so, to save it from my curse,

        I ted it round in my shawl.

        XXII.

        And rembled from foot to head,

        o foot;

        till, after a time, ead

        too suddenly still and mute.

        I felt, beside, a stiffening cold, . . .

        I dared to lift up just a fold . . .

        As in lifting a leaf of t.

        XXIII.

        But my fruit . . . here, had been

        (I laugo t at this hour! . . .)

        Your fine we angels, who have seen

        of Gods power, . . .

        And plucked my fruit to make them wine,

        And sucked t child of mine,

        As the flower.

        XXIV.

        rick of te!

        te c so.

        I said not a , day and night,

        I carried to and fro;

        And it lay on my    like a stone . . . as chill.

        --t as much as he will:

        I am cold, t h ago.

        XXV.

        From te mans ,

        I carried ttle body on,

        ts arms did round us s,

        And silerees did run:

        tion as I ,--

        tood too onis,--

        t on hrone.

        XXVI.

        My little body, kerc,

        I bore it on t . . . on:

        And    ired at last,

        I scooped a he moon.

        t-tops the angels far,

        ite sar,

        Did point and mock at w was done.

        XXVII.

        Yet , . . .

        Eart me and my baby, strewed,

        All, co black earte, . . .

        A dark che dark,--ensued

        Some fort, and my    grew young:

        I sate dohere and sung

        t in my maidenhood.

        XXVIII.

        And two were reciled,

        te chus:

        For, as I sang it, soft and wild

        the same song, more melodious,

        Rose from te!

        It ,

        to join th of us.

        XXIX.

        I look on the sky!

        anchored lay,

        th gloriously;

        But ts have slid away

        t streaks of the morn.

        My face is black, but it glares h a s

        meet by day.

        XXX.

        Aead, ter sons!

        A in a ring--

        Keep off! I brave you all at once--

        I t sting!

        You    , I think:

        Did you and still in your triumph, and shrink

        From troke of her wounded wing?

        XXXI.

        (Man, drop t stone you dared to lift!--)

        I ,

        Eac,

        A little corpse as safely at rest

        As mine in t she

        May keep live babies on her knee,

        And sing t.

        XXXll.

        I am not mad: I am black.

        I see you staring in my face--

        I kn, shrinking back--

        Ye are born of ton-race:

        And the free America:

        And t . . . (I prove w I say)

        Ropes tied me up o the flogging-place.

        XXXIII.

        You t a sound!

        I he sun.

        I only cursed them all around,

        As softly as I might have done

        My very own chese sands

        Up to tains, lift your hands,

        O slaves, and end w I begun!

        XXXIV.

        anshose!

        For in t

        two kinds of men in adverse rows,

        Eac

        ts body fair;

        hile hE sees gaping everywhere

        Our tless    pay .

        XXXV.

        Our . Your we men

        Are, after all, not gods indeed,

        Nor able to make Cs again

        Do good h bleeding. e who bleed . . .

        (Stand off!) we    in our loss!

        e are too heavy for our cross,

        And fall and crush you and your seed.

        XXXVI.

        I fall, I s the sky:

        the clouds are breaking on my brain;

        I am floated along, as if I should die

        Of libertys exquisite pain--

        In te g for me

        In th-dark where we may kiss and agree,

        e men, I leave you all curse-free

        In my broken s disdain!
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