Alice H. Cunningham, “A Sigh For Rest” (1906)
O'er the same drear path from day to day;
There seems no hope, like some guiding star,
To shine down upon me from afar.
Man-tired, I long for a forest wild
Where Nature and I may roam, undefiled
By humans and their doubts and woes --
For some glad spot where the river flows.
Gold-tired -- and oh! for some happy land
Where you're paid for a deed by a friendly hand
Where glitter and gold are mere paltry things
And gold and gain are not worshipped as kings.
Life-tired, I long for the restful end,
But my soul still under its load must bend;
Death holds aloft, he will not come nigh,
Though I crave and pray for the right to die.
Published in Colored American Magazine, February, 1906