Stanford E. Davis, "Hights Uv Ambishun" (1909)
W'en my han's gits bleedin' so
Dat I gits disgusted tryin',
An' say, " Gwine ter clim' no mo'l"
Den I 'gine ter think 'ow many
Hights great men reached and kep',
Dat was not gain'd thru foolin ',
But toilin' w'ile udders slep'.
Den I clim' on wid fresh courage,
An' de tho'ts ter nevah stop,
(Tho my feet be so' an' bleedin') )
Clingin' on sharp edge fragments,
'Til I gains de mountain top.
Dere's times daylight goes stealing
Wid de sun away fom me;
Den de night grows dark an' foggy;
Der's no stars dat I kin see.
But I 'spec' ter keep on clim'in',
Fer I 'no' dere is er crown
On de mountain top er waitin'
W'en I lays my burden down.
An' up dere 'tis blessed sunshinel
An' rubies an' silver an' gol',
An' fer him who en's de journey
A crown uv vict'ry untol'!
Published in Colored American Magazine, November 1909