Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer Poems
In the love of home and country and the flag of Uncle Sam,
Can the loyalty be doubted of a dusky son of Ham?
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Let us give thanks to God above,
Thanks for expressions of His love,
Seen in the book of nature, grand
Taught by His love on every hand.
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Birthday greetings
From a friend,
All thy meetings
Peace attend.
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Have you ever heard of lynching in the great United States?
'Tis an awful, awful story that the Negro man relates,
How the mobs the laws have trampled, both the human and divine,
In their killing helpless people as their cruel hearts incline.
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Have you heard, my friend, the slander that the Negro has to face?
Immorality, the grossest, has been charged up to his race.
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Please be silent now, my country, while I fill the speaker's place;
While I point out some abuses that we constantly embrace,
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Can America be reckoned as the country of the free?
In the light of recent actions 'tis a truth that's hard to see.
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Whites alone upon the jury in a number of the states,
Thus they crush a helpless Negro with their prejudicial hates;
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If within the cruel Southland you have chanced to take a ride,
You the Jim Crow cars have noticed, how they crush a Negro's pride,
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A lawyer had a legal mouse,
A naughty one they say,
That took possession of his house
And papers ev'ry day,
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Why do people sit in darkness as regards the Negro race?
Why so ignorant are nations of conditions in the case?
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How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe!
It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
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The sixties brought a clash of arms—
The mem'ry of it thrills and charms—
While Negro slaves for freedom prayed,
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Once the nation's chief was honored by the company of one,
Who to lift a fallen people had a work of worth begun,
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Down in history we find it and in grandest works of art,
How the men on fields of battle play so well the soldier's part,
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In the State of 'Old Palmetto,' from the town of Eutawville,
Comes a voice of pain and anguish that refuses to be still.
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The ills of all the human race,
The woes of earth that bring disgrace
Would banish, if we only could,
Escape the fiend, Misunderstood.
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The Southern pulpit, in our eyes,
Descends to make a compromise
With evil things in heaven's name;
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When Egypt said, 'Exterminate
The males among the Jews,
Fair Goshen's land make desolate
And bid them glad adieus:'
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When a Negro comes in question you may watch the Southern press,
See how bias its opinions, how his ills are given stress,
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Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer Biography
Frances Cornford (1886-1960) was born and lived for most of her life in Cambridge. She was the granddaughter of Charles Darwin, and on her mother’s side was related to William Wordsworth. In 1909 she married the classicist Francis Cornford, who was to become Professor of Ancient Philosophy at Cambridge, and they had five children. Frances Cornford published eight books of poetry and two of translations. Her Collected Poems (1954) was the Choice of the Poetry Book Society, and in 1959 she was awarded the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry.)
The Best Poem Of Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Loyalty To The Flag
In the love of home and country and the flag of Uncle Sam,
Can the loyalty be doubted of a dusky son of Ham?
Wheresoever duty calls him, as a freedman or a slave,
The response is ever hearty when 'Old Glory' he would save.
'Twas the war of Revolution, when a Negro's blood was first,
To be shed for independence, when a yoke the land had cursed;
Crispus Attucks died in Boston, on State street he paid the debt,
Liberty his blood has planted and the tree is growing yet.
Ask the spirit of Pitcairn how he came to meet his death?
Where and who it was that brought him down to breathe the dying breath?
'Twas the Negro Salem's bullet at the charge of Bunker's Hill,
Bringing to the whites their freedom but to Negroes naught but ill.
In the battle of New Orleans, eighteen fourteen was the year,
When the Negro fought with valor till the victory was clear;
Jackson paid this glowing tribute—may the spirit never lag—
'None more strong and none more useful, none more loyal to the flag.'
O, how brave the Negro soldiers when the Civil war was fought!
Shall they fight such noble battles in the nation's cause for naught?
Hark! the battle cry of Charleston! at Fort Wagner is the place!
At Port Hudson and Fort Pillow how the rebel guns they face!
Fifty-fourth of Massachusetts—may such regiments be praised—
By its valor at Fort Wagner, North and South became amazed!
Hall began as color-bearer but was killed on duty grand,
To the spot went William Carney and the colors took in hand.
Wounded many times was Carney, shot in head, in arm and thigh,
On one knee he fell and crawling kept the colors flying high,
Blood upon the banner streaming while his words the action crowned;
'Boys I've kept aloft 'Old Glory' and it never touched the ground!'
Colonel Stafford was disabled, Dwight his men to battle led,
With great feeling at New Orleans, Stafford to the sergeant said,
'Guard, protect defend these colors,' 'Yes,' he answered, 'though I die
I will bring them back in honor or to God report the why.'
All the world has heard the story of the Cuban war with Spain,
Ah! the sound of Negro valor falls upon the ear again,
At Elkaney and San Juan how they helped to win the day,
Near the town of Santiago, held the enemy at bay!
Side by side with other soldiers being in complexion white,
Negroes died to take San Juan in the thickest of the fight,
Thus they gained the worthy plaudit from the loyal, brave and true;
'Negroes on the field of battle, dignify the nation's blue.'
Shall the prejudice existing in the country now, increase,
While the Negro's patriotism merits rest at home and peace?
Nay, the hydra-headed monster in the end will surely die,
We expect the right to triumph over evil by and by.
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