Frances Smith Brown, "Maiden of my Race" (1927)
By Frances Smith Brown
Your tears are wasted, maiden of my race.
There is no law that makes white kin to black;
And your lover swings there alone.
Your tears are wasted,
Maiden of my race.
Loud, boisterous yells of the mob;
Souless men who claim their blood,
And sell as souvenirs the lean bones.
The common and the noble herd are there,
Amidst a thousand tongues acclaimed brave,
And the leader sits high on his throne.
Brown maiden, you beat your bosom in despair,
And hang on the corpse of your beloved.
Your tears are wasted,
One of my race.
Published in The Messenger, November 1927