The Negro Press in the United States

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University of Chicago Press, 1922 - Literary Criticism - 274 pages
 

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Page 168 - If we must die, let it not be like hogs Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs, Making their mock at our accursed lot. If we must die...
Page 30 - O black and unknown bards of long ago, How came your lips to touch the sacred fire? How, in your darkness, did you come to know The power and beauty of the minstrel's lyre? Who first from midst his bonds lifted his eyes? Who first from out the still watch, lone and long, Feeling the ancient faith of prophets rise Within his dark-kept soul, burst into song? Heart of what slave poured out such melody As "Steal away to Jesus"?
Page 168 - O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us brave, And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow! What though before us lies the open grave? Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
Page 199 - Behold the path-traced, peaceful wood, The cotton white, the yellow corn. To gain these fruits that have been earned, To hold these fields that have been won, Our arms have strained, our backs have burned, Bent bare beneath a ruthless sun. That Banner which is now the type Of victory on field and flood — Remember, its first crimson stripe Was dyed by Attucks
Page 198 - These truly are the Brave, These men who cast aside Old memories, to walk the blood-stained pave Of Sacrifice, joining the solemn tide That moves away, to suffer and to die For Freedom — when their own is yet denied!
Page 168 - Though far outnumbered, let us still be brave, And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow! What though before us lies the open grave! Like men we'll face the murderous, cowardly pack, Pressed to the wall, dying, but — fighting...
Page 30 - There is a wide, wide wonder in it all, That from degraded rest and servile toil The fiery spirit of the seer should call These simple children of the sun and soil. O black slave singers, gone, forgot, unfamed, You — you alone, of all the long, long line Of those who've sung untaught, unknown, unnamed, Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine.
Page 199 - This land is ours by right of birth, This land is ours by right of toil; We helped to turn its virgin earth, Our sweat is in its fruitful soil.
Page 132 - To sit in silence when we should protest, Makes cowards out of men. The human race Has climbed on protest.
Page 36 - If I remain in this bloody land, I will not live long. As true as God reigns, I will be avenged for the sorrow which my people have suffered. This is not the place for me — no, no. I must leave this part of the country. It will be a great trial for me to live on the same soil where so many men are in slavery ; certainly I cannot remain where I must hear their chains continually, and where I must encounter the insults of their hypocritical enslavers. Go, I must...

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