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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416434" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fifty Years (1863-1913)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O brothers mine, to-day we stand<br>Where half a century sweeps our ken,<br>Since God, through Lincoln's ready hand,<br>Struck off our bonds and made us men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just fifty years - a winter's day -<br>As runs the history of a race;<br>Yet, as we look back o'er the way,<br>How distant seems our starting place!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look farther back! Three centuries!<br>To where a naked, shivering score,<br>Snatched from their haunts across the seas,<br>Stood, wild-eyed, on Virginia's shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This land is ours by right of birth,<br>This land is ours by right of toil;<br>We helped to turn its virgin earth,<br>Our sweat is in its fruitful soil.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where once the tangled forest stood, -<br>Where flourished once rank weed and thorn, -<br>Behold the path-traced, peaceful wood,<br>The cotton white, the yellow corn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To gain these fruits that have been earned,<br>To hold these fields that have been won,<br>Our arms have strained, our backs have burned,<br>Bent bare beneath a ruthless sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That Banner which is now the type<br>Of victory on field and flood -<br>Remember, its first crimson stripe<br>Was dyed by Attucks' willing blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And never yet has come the cry -<br>When that fair flag has been assailed -<br>For men to do, for men to die,<br>That we have faltered or have failed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>We've helped to bear it, rent and torn,<br>Through many a hot-breath'd battle breeze<br>Held in our hands, it has been borne<br>And planted far across the seas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And never yet, - O haughty Land,<br>Let us, at least, for this be praised -<br>Has one black, treason-guided hand<br>Ever against that flag been raised.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then should we speak but servile words,<br>Or shall we hang our heads in shame?<br>Stand back of new-come foreign hordes,<br>And fear our heritage to claim?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No! stand erect and without fear,<br>And for our foes let this suffice -<br>We've bought a rightful sonship here,<br>And we have more than paid the price.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet, my brothers, well I know<br>The tethered feet, the pinioned wings,<br>The spirit bowed beneath the blow,<br>The heart grown faint from wounds and stings;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The staggering force of brutish might,<br>That strikes and leaves us stunned and dazed;<br>The long, vain waiting through the night<br>To hear some voice for justice raised.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Full well I know the hour when hope<br>Sinks dead, and 'round us everywhere<br>Hangs stifling darkness, and we grope<br>With hands uplifted in despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Courage! Look out, beyond, and see<br>The far horizon's beckoning span!<br>Faith in your God-known destiny!<br>We are a part of some great plan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Because the tongues of Garrison<br>And Phillips now are cold in death,<br>Think you their work can be undone?<br>Or quenched the fires lit by their breath?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Think you that John Brown's spirit stops?<br>That Lovejoy was but idly slain?<br>Or do you think those precious drops<br>From Lincoln's heart were shed in vain?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That for which millions prayed and sighed,<br>That for which tens of thousands fought,<br>For which so many freely died,<br>God cannot let it come to naught.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Weldon+Johnson">James Weldon Johnson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416434" data-title="Fifty Years (1863-1913) de James Weldon Johnson" data-description="O brothers mine, to-day we stand
Where half a century sweeps our ken,
Since God, through Lincoln's ready hand,
Struck off our bonds and made us men.

Just fifty years - a winter's day -
As runs the history of a race;
Yet, as we look back o'er the ..."></div>
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