Katherine D. Tillman, "Oh Africa!" (1902)
Oh, Africa, dear Africa,
Upon thy sun-kissed shore,
Shall the sable sons of Hamite sires
Ne'er be masters more?
Or shall thy glowing splendors
Of earth and air and sky,
Except for alien nations
In dark oblivion lie?
Oh, canst thou not arise,
Dear children of the sun,
As in thy primal strength,
Before thy day is done?
Shall not thy old proud history,
Thy pyramids of stone,
Thy mummied kings, thy riches,
Arouse to crowns unwon?
The Sphinx, that wondrous marvel,
Shames on us more than thou,
With all thy former glory,
And naught but languor now.
The best king in the forest, the tiger
In his lair,
Still throw their lordly challenge
Upon the evening air.
But thou art torn and bleeding,
And thou dost not arise,
And all thy fair, fair country
Is searched by alien spies.
Throw down thy rude, dumb idols,
Thy gods of wood and stone,
No help is there in idols,
Help comes from God alone!
Published in Tillman's Recitations, 1902