In the East the clouds glow crimson with the new dawn that is breaking, And its golden glory fills the western skies. O my brothers and my sisters, wake! arise! For the new birth rends the old earth and the very dead are waking, Ghosts are turned flesh, throwing off the grave’s disguise, And the foolish, even children, are made wise; For the big earth groans in travail for the strong, new world in making-- O my brothers, dreaming for long centuries, Wake from sleeping; to the East turn, turn your eyes! THE LYNCHING His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven. His father, by the cruelest way of pain, Had bidden him to his bosom once again; The awful sin remained still unforgiven. All night a bright and solitary star (Perchance the one that ever guided him, Yet gave him up at last to Fate’s wild whim) Hung pitifully o’er the swinging char. Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view The ghastly body swaying in the sun The women thronged to look, but never a one Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue; And little lads, lynchers that were to be, Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee. BAPTISM Into the furnace let me go alone; Stay you without in terror of the heat. I will go naked in--for thus ’tis sweet-- Into the weird depths of the hottest zone. I will not quiver in the frailest bone, You will not note a flicker of defeat; My heart shall tremble not its fate to meet, My mouth give utterance to any moan. The yawning oven spits forth fiery spears; Red aspish tongues shout wordlessly my name. Desire destroys, consumes my mortal fears, Transforming me into a shape of flame. I will come out, back to your world of tears, A stronger soul within a finer frame. IF WE MUST DIE 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 accursèd lot. If we must die, O let us nobly die, So that our precious blood may not be shed In vain; then even the monsters we defy Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe! Though far outnumbered let us show us 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 back! SUBWAY WIND