You'll Tell Her, Won't You?

You'll tell her, won't you? Say to her I died
As a brave soldier should - true to the last;
She'll bear it better if a though of price
Comes in to stay her, the first shock o'erpast!
You'll tell her, won't you? Show her how I lay
Pressing the pictured lips I loved so well;
And how my last thoughts floated far away,
To home and her, with love I could not tell.
You'll tell her, won't you? - not how hard it was
To give up life - for her sake so dear;
Nay, nay, not so. Say 'twas a noble cause,
And I did die for it without a tear.
You'll tell her, won't you? She'll be glad to know
Her soldier stood undaunted, true as steel,
His heart with her, his bosom to the foe,
When the blow struck no human power could break.
You'll tell her, won't you? Say, too, we shall meet
In God's Hereafter, where our love shall grow
More holy for this parting, and more sweet,
And cleansed from every stain it knew below.

poem by Anonymous Americas
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Decreed

Into all lives some rain must fall,
Into all eyes some tear-drops start,
Whether they fall as gentle shower,
Or fall like fire from an aching heart.
Into all hearts some sorrow must creep,
Into all souls some doubtings come,
Lashing the waves of life's great deep
From dimpling waters to seething foam.

Over all paths some clouds must lower,
Under all feet some sharp thorns spring,
Tearing the flesh to bitter wounds,
Or entering the heart with their bitter sting.
Upon all brows rough winds must blow,
Over all shoulders a cross be lain,
Bowing the form in its lofty height
Down to the dust in bitter pain.

Into all hands some duty's thrust;
Unto all arms some burden's given,

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Freedom's Star

As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day,
I turned my fond gaze to the sky;
I beheld all the stars as so sweetly they lay,
And but one fixed my heart or my eye.
Shine on, northern star, thou’rt beautiful and bright
To the slave on his journey afar;
For he speeds from his foes in the darkness of night,
Guided on by thy light, freedom’s star.

On thee he depends when he threads the dark woods
Ere the bloodhounds have hunted him back;
Thou leadest him on over mountains and floods,
With thy beams shining full on his track.
Shine on, &c.

Unwelcome to him is the bright orb of day,
As it glides o’er the earth and the sea;
He seeks then to hide like a wild beast of prey,

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Songs In Sleep

If I could frame for you in cunning words
The songs my heart in sleep is often singing,
You'd fancy, love, an orquestra of birds
Upon their quivering throats the dawn were bringing.

Now in some wild, weird flush of melody
I'd feign the skylark, with his music sifting
The final films of nightshade from the lea,
And all the waking world to heaven uplifting.

Then, ere the lengthening liquid solo went--
In skylark fashion--out of hearing o'er us,
I'd mock with skill, as sweet as my intent,
Thrustle and blackbird coming in for chorus.

There's not a strain of joy the birds could sing,
I could not set to words that I've been dreaming;
But when I wake, alas! they all take wing,
And leave of music but the empty seeming.

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Right On

Ho! children of the brave,
Ho! freemen of the land,
That hurl'd into the grave
Oppression's bloody band;
Come on, come on, and joined be we
To make the fettered bondman free.

Let coward vassals sneak
From freedom's battle still,
Poltroons that dare not speak
But as their priests may will;
Come on, come on, and joined be we
To make the fettered bondman free.

On parchment, scroll and creed,
With human life blood red,
Untrembling at the deed,
Plant firm your manly tread;
The priest may howl, the jurist rave,
But we will free the fettered slave.

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Barefooted Boys

I.

By the sword of St. Michael
The old dragon through;
By David his sling
And the giant he slew;
Let us write us a rhyme,
As a record to tell
How the South on a time
Stormed the ramparts of Hell
With her barefooted boys!

II.

Had the South in her border
A hero to spare,
Or a heart at her altar,
Lo! its life's blood was there!
And the black battle-grime
Might never disguise

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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I Am An Abolitionist

I am an Abolitionist!
I glory in the name:
Though now by Slavery’s minions hiss’d
And covered o’er with shame,
It is a spell of light and power —
The watchword of the free : ——
Who spurns it in the trial-hour,
A craven soul is he !

I am an Abolitionist!
Then urge me not to pause;
For joyfully do I enlist
In Freedom’s sacred cause:
A nobler strife the world ne’er saw,
Th’ enslaved to disenthral;
I am a soldier for the war,
Whatever may befall!

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Slave Boy's Wish

I wish I was that little bird,
Up in the bright blue sky,
That sings and flies just where he will,
And no one asks him why.
I wish I was that little brook,
That runs so swift along,
Through pretty flowers and shining stones,
Singing a merry song.
I wish I was that butterfly,
Without a thought or care,
Sporting my pretty, brilliant wings,
Like a flower in the air.
I wish I was that wild, wild deer,
I saw the other day,
Who swifter than an arrow flew,
Through the forest far away.
I wish I was that little cloud,
By the gentle south wind driven,
Floating along so free and bright,
Far, far up into heaven.

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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Song of The Coffle Gang

This song is said to be sung by Slaves, as they are chained in gangs,
when parting from friends for the far off South-children taken from
parents, husbands from wives, and brothers from sisters.

See these poor souls from Africa,
Transported to America:
We are stolen, and sold to Georgia, will you go along with me?
We are stolen and sold to Georgia, go sound the jubilee.

See wives and husbands sold apart,
The children's screams!-it breaks my heart;
There's a better day a coming, will you go along with me?
There's a better day a coming, go sound the jubilee.

O, gracious Lord? when shall it be,
That we poor souls shall all be free?
Lord, break them Slavery powers-will you go along with me?
Lord, break them Slavery powers, go sound the jubilee.

Dear Lord! dear Lord! when Slavery'll cease,

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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On To Victory

Children of the glorious dead,
Who for freedom fought and bled,
With her banner o'er you spread,
On to victory.
Not for stern ambition's prize,
Do our hopes and wishes rise;
Lo, our leader from the skies,
Bids us do or die.

Ours is not the tented field-
We no earthly weapons wield-
Light and love, our sword and shield,
Truth our panoply.
This is proud oppression's hour;
Storms are round us; shall we cower?
While beneath a despot's power
Groans the suffering slave?

While on every southern gale,
Comes the helpless captive's tale,

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poem by Anonymous Americas
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