George Reginald Margetson, "When" (1907)
To try the far off heights of Fame,
On her fair page to write my name
And shine till Time shall cease to be?
When shall my soul take wings and mount
To that proud shrine where Glory stands,
And beckons me with willing hands,
To come and lave me at her fount?
I cannot gain the means to rise,
Denied am I the right to soar,
Because I'm black, because I'm poor
Would men their fellowman despise?
And yet There is my natural bent,
I have the gift in endles flow,
I have the will to make it glow,
But cruel Fate will not consent.
And so I move as doth a ball,
Upon the bosom of the tide,
Unable its own course to guide,
Obeys the ever-breaking squall.
But lest my years for naught be spent
In drifting aimless o'er the tide,
I'll wrest the rudder of my pride
And steer Life's barque to where 'tis bent.
Published in The Voice of the Negro, October 1907