Katherine D. Tillman, "America's First Cargo of Slaves" (1902)
It was midnight in Africa,
And on the western shore
Stood chained a huddled line of slaves,
Full twenty souls or more,
While darkness like Egyptian night
Reigned over all the land,
The slaves were hurried on the ship,
And borne from Afric's strand.
On board a man-of-war they go
To breathe the ship's foul air,
To stifle in the ship's close hole
And shriek their wild despair.
Ah, who could tell the awful woe
This fatal act would bring,
Surely in that Dutch captain's ears
A million death cries ring!
Oh, charge not God with will to see
His Afric sons enslaved
That doomed to dreary servitude
Their lost souls might be saved.
Oh, no; for better in our land,
The land possessed by Ham,
To dwell in perfect liberty
Beneath the waving palm,
To have the gospel brought to us,
As 'tis to Asia sent.
Than we like beasts should toil for years
That Christian light be lent,
To labor like the patient ox,
Like to him no more to know
Than endless toil for others' gain
And take in peace his blow.
The ship sailed on o'er stormy seas
Till this strange cargo came
To Jamestown's mart, and thus began
Our country's greatest shame.
Oh, what a fatal hour that bro't
The slave to this free shore,
On history's page the fearful blot
With time doth blacker grow.
Two hundred weary years,
The Negro tilled the soil,
Until America was rich
With fruits of Negro toil.
Two hundred weary years
But freedom came at last,
And no other lowly people
Have ever climbed so fast.
See how they struggle, see!
Will no one lend a hand,
Will no one help a race oppressed
Within this Christian land?
Give them an equal chance,
Freedom of life and aim,
This only can atone
For America's dark shame!
Published in Tillman's Recitations, 1902