No More Learning

We know de promise nebber fail,
An' nebber lie de word;
So like de 'postles in de jail,
We waited for de Lord:
An' now he open ebery door
An' trow away de key;
He tink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
He'll gib de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear
De driver blow his horn!

So sing our dusky gondoliers;
And with a secret pain,
And smiles that seem akin to tears,
We hear the wild refrain.

We dare not share the negro's trust,
Nor yet his hope deny;
We only know that God is just,
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song; each swarthy face
Flame-lighted, ruder still:
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or ill;

That laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed;
And, close as sin and suffering joined,
We march to Fate abreast.

Sing on, poor hearts! your chant shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom,--
The Vala-song of Liberty,
Or death-rune of our doom!





READY

PHOEBE CARY

[Sidenote: 1861]

Loaded with gallant soldiers,
A boat shot in to the land,
And lay at the right of Rodman's Point
With her keel upon the sand.

Lightly, gayly, they came to shore,
And never a man afraid;
When sudden the enemy opened fire
From his deadly ambuscade.

Each man fell flat on the bottom
Of the boat; and the captain said:
"If we lie here, we all are captured,
And the first who moves is dead! "

Then out spoke a negro sailor,
No slavish soul had he;
"Somebody's got to die, boys,
And it might as well be me! "

Firmly he rose, and fearlessly
Stepped out into the tide;
He pushed the vessel safely off,
Then fell across her side:

Fell, pierced by a dozen bullets,
As the boat swung clear and free;--
But there wasn't a man of them that day
Who was fitter to die than he!





"HOW ARE YOU, SANITARY"

BRET HAUTE

[Sidenote: 1861-1865]
_Early in the war was organized the U. S. Sanitary Commission, to
supply comforts to the soldier in the field from the voluntary
contributions of the men and women at home.
Out of this grew the
Red-Cross Associations of Europe. _

Down the picket-guarded lane
Rolled the comfort-laden wain,
Cheered by shouts that shook the plain,
Soldier-like and merry:
Phrases such as camps may teach,
Sabre-cuts of Saxon speech,
Such as "Bully! " "Them's the peach! "
"Wade in, Sanitary! "

Right and left the caissons drew
As the car went lumbering through,
Quick succeeding in review
Squadrons military;
Sunburnt men with beards like frieze,
Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these,--
"U. S. San. Com. " "That's the cheese! "
"Pass in, Sanitary! "

In such cheer it struggled on
Till the battle front was won,
Then the car, its journey done,
Lo! was stationary;
And where bullets whistling fly,
Came the sadder, fainter cry,
"Help us, brothers, ere we die,--
Save us, Sanitary! "

Such the work. The phantom flies,
Wrapped in battle clouds that rise;
But the brave--whose dying eyes,
Veiled and visionary,
See the jasper gates swung wide,
See the parted throng outside--
Hears the voice to those who ride:
"Pass in, Sanitary! "





SONG OF THE SOLDIERS

CHARLES G. HALPINE

[Sidenote: 1861-1865]

Comrades known in marches many,
Comrades, tried in dangers many,
Comrades, bound by memories many,
Brothers let us be.