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' willing blood. And never yet has come the cry-- When that fair flag has been assailed-- For men to do, for men to die, That we have faltered or have failed. We've helped to bear it, rent and torn, Through many a hot-breath'd battle breeze Held in our hands, it has been borne And planted far across the seas. And never yet,--O haughty Land, Let us, at least, for this be praised-- Has one black, treason-guided hand Ever against that flag been raised. Then should we speak but servile words, Or shall we hang our heads in shame? Stand back of new-come foreign hordes, And fear our heritage to claim? No! stand erect and without fear, And for our foes let this suffice-- We've bought a rightful sonship here, And we have more than paid the price. And yet, my brothers, well I know The tethered feet, the pinioned wings, The spirit bowed beneath the blow, The heart grown faint from wounds and stings; The staggering force of brutish might, That strikes and leaves us stunned and dazed; The long, vain waiting through the night To hear some voice for justice raised. Full well I know the hour when hope Sinks dead, and 'round us everywhere Hangs stifling darkness, and we grope With hands uplifted in despair. Courage! Look out, beyond, and see The far horizon's beckoning span! Faith in your God-known destiny! We are a part of some great plan. Because the tongues of Garrison And Phillips now are cold in death, Think you their work can be undone? Or quenched the fires lit by their breath? Think you that John Brown's spirit stops? That Lovejoy was but idly slain? Or do you think those precious drops From Lincoln's heart were shed in vain? That for which millions prayed and sighed, That for which tens of thousands fought, For which so many freely died, God cannot let it come to naught. John Wesley Holloway MISS MELERLEE Hello dar, Miss Melerlee! Oh, you're pretty sight to see! Sof brown cheek, an' smilin' face, An' willowy form chuck full o' grace-- De sweetes' gal Ah evah see, An' Ah wush dat you would marry me! Hello, Miss Melerlee! Hello dar, Miss Melerlee! You're de berry gal fo' me! Pearly teef, an' shinin' hair, An' silky arm so plump an' bare! Ah lak yo' walk, Ah lak yo' clothes, An' de way Ah love you,--goodness knows! Hello, Miss Melerlee! Hello dar, Miss Melerlee! Dat's not yo' name, but it ought to be! Ah nevah seed yo' face befo' An' lakly won't again no mo'; But yo' sweet smile will follow me Cla'r into eternity! Farewell, Miss Melerlee! CALLING THE DOCTOR Ah'm sick, doctor-man, Ah'm sick! Gi' me some'n' to he'p me quick, Don't,--Ah'll die!