For him no more the lamp shall glow at eve, Nor chubby children pluck him by the sleeve; No more for him the master's eyes be bright,-- He has nor freedom's nor a slave's delight. What, was it all for naught, those awful years That drenched a groaning land with blood and tears? Was it to leave this sly convenient hell, That brother fighting his own brother fell? When that great struggle held the world in awe, And all the nations blanched at what they saw, Did Sanctioned Slavery bow its conquered head That this unsanctioned crime might rise instead? Is it for this we all have felt the flame,-- This newer bondage and this deeper shame? Nay, not for this, a nation's heroes bled, And North and South with tears beheld their dead. Oh, Mother South, hast thou forgot thy ways, Forgot the glory of thine ancient days, Forgot the honor that once made thee great, And stooped to this unhallowed estate? It cannot last, thou wilt come forth in might, A warrior queen full armored for the fight; And thou wilt take, e'en with thy spear in rest, Thy dusky children to thy saving breast. Till then, no more, no more the gladsome song, Strike only deeper chords, the notes of wrong; Till then, the sigh, the tear, the oath, the moan, Till thou, oh, South, and thine, come to thine own. THE HAUNTED OAK Pray why are you so bare, so bare, Oh, bough of the old oak-tree; And why, when I go through the shade you throw, Runs a shudder over me? My leaves were green as the best, I trow, And sap ran free in my veins, But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird A guiltless victim's pains. I bent me down to hear his sigh; I shook with his gurgling moan, And I trembled sore when they rode away, And left him here alone. They 'd charged him with the old, old crime, And set him fast in jail: Oh, why does the dog howl all night long, And why does the night wind wail? He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath, And he raised his hand to the sky; But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear, And the steady tread drew nigh. Who is it rides by night, by night, Over the moonlit road? And what is the spur that keeps the pace, What is the galling goad? And now they beat at the prison door, "Ho, keeper, do not stay! We are friends of him whom you hold within, And we fain would take him away "From those who ride fast on our heels With mind to do him wrong; They have no care for his innocence, And the rope they bear is long." They have fooled the jailer with lying words, They have fooled the man with lies; The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn, And the great door open flies. Now they have taken him from the jail, And hard and fast they ride, And the leader laughs low down in his throat, As they halt my trunk beside.