Raymond Garfield Dandridge Poems

Black brother, think you life so sweet
That you would live at any price?
Does mere existence balance with
The weight of your great sacrifice?
...

True I am black not by my will;
I had no choice of hue,
And none was given you.
By His decree our roles we fill.
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The skies are hung with sullen clouds,
A fine mist chills the air,
And earth is wrapt in heavy shrouds
Of stillness and despair.
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You say 'That man was made to mourn.'
Would you have me believe it—
Believe earth holds no recompense
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Mah ruddah's brokin, an' mah sail
Wen' ovah bode, in las' night's gale;
Mah bunkah's empty, steam am low,
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Some men go beyond their way
To advertise, in bold display,
The knowledge of the favors they may lend.
Yet, I find one who, if he might,
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Arise! ye humble undertrodden wight,
Behold, at edge of yonder east,
The blazing Sun of Hope adawn!
Think ye not thou needst ever be
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The night winds drone, in mournful lay,
A solemn requiem o'er the dead.
Lamented Hope of yesterday,
Was there naught you could will instead—
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Learned Sages,
Scan these pages,
Recognize the wealth they hold!
All those places,
...

Prejudice with venom smote every word and act;
Snuffed was the light of knowledge from your view.
Unbefriended martyr, sole object of attack,
...