We pray de Lord: he gib us signs Dat some day we be free; De norf-wind tell it to de pines, De wild-duck to de sea; We tink it when de church-bell ring, We dream it in de dream; De rice-bird mean it when he sing, De eagle when be scream. De yam will grow, de cotton blow, We'll hab de rice an' corn Oh nebber you fear, if nebber you hear De driver blow his horn! 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 hub him better free. De yam will grow, de cotton blow, He'll gib de rice an' corn; Oh 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! 1862. ASTRAEA AT THE CAPITOL. ABOLITION OF SLAVERY IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, 1862. WHEN first I saw our banner wave Above the nation's council-hall, I heard beneath its marble wall The clanking fetters of the slave! In the foul market-place I stood, And saw the Christian mother sold, And childhood with its locks of gold, Blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood. I shut my eyes, I held my breath, And, smothering down the wrath and shame That set my Northern blood aflame, Stood silent,--where to speak was death. Beside me gloomed the prison-cell Where wasted one in slow decline For uttering simple words of mine, And loving freedom all too well. The flag that floated from the dome Flapped menace in the morning air; I stood a perilled stranger where The human broker made his home. For crime was virtue: Gown and Sword And Law their threefold sanction gave, And to the quarry of the slave Went hawking with our symbol-bird. On the oppressor's side was power; And yet I knew that every wrong, However old, however strong, But waited God's avenging hour. I knew that truth would crush the lie, Somehow, some time, the end would be; Yet scarcely dared I hope to see The triumph with my mortal eye. But now I see it! In the sun A free flag floats from yonder dome, And at the nation's hearth and home The justice long delayed is done. Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer, The message of deliverance comes, But heralded by roll of drums On waves of battle-troubled air! Midst sounds that madden and appall, The song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew! The harp of David melting through The demon-agonies of Saul!