They shall go down unto life’s Borderland,
Walk unafraid within that Living Hell,
Nor heed the driving rain of shot and shell
That round them falls; but with uplifted hand
Be one with mighty hosts, an armed band
Against man’s wrong to man-for such full well
They know. And from their trembling lips shall swell
A song of hope the world can understand
All this to them shall be a glorious sign,
A glimmer of that resurrection morn
When age-long faith, crowned with a grace benign,
Shall rise and from their brows cast down the thorn
Of prejudice. E’en though through blood it bee,
There breaks this day their dawn of liberty…
From: an anthology of verse by American Negroes, reprinted by permission of Moore Publishing Co.
Reference:
Joseph Seamon Cotter