In the north we could not hope to keep the worst and poorest servant for a single day in the wretched discomfort in which our negro servants are forced habitually to live.
quote by Fanny Kemble
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Related quotes
From the diary of a Dowager
She is still smart in her forties and lives in her manor childless.
The land, poultry, vineyard and the whole wealth,
She holds from her deceased husband.
The old parents and the servants lived together.
Her brother-in-law, husband's elder brother
Who was a retired war veteran a senile lives behind the manor in the old haystack.
She doesn't like to marry again and refused all the proposals the parents brought.
'I live my entire life in single' She grumbled.
The classical music gives her courage to pass the time.
Her senile brother-in-law who died in sleep and they buried him near by the haystack.
Exactly after a fortnight of the funeral the complaint was made by a servant that she was pregnant by the deceased Master.
The lady was shocked and she is very kind and promised the servant to adopt the child after the birth.
She adopts the servant's beautiful daughter.
And the servant took hands the old Gardner?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Immorality
Have you heard, my friend, the slander that the Negro has to face?
Immorality, the grossest, has been charged up to his race.
Listen, listen to my story, as I now proceed to tell
Of conditions in the Southland, where the mass of Negroes dwell.
Ev'ry city, town or county, ev'ry state on Southern soil,
Has mulattoes in its borders, found among the sons of toil.
Can you tell from whence they landed; or to whither shall they go?
Is the Negro race responsible alone, I'd like to know?
When a man among the Negroes is the least suspected there
Of an intimate relation with a daughter that is fair,
Then an angry mob arises and he answers for the same
In a death, the worst in cruelty the company can name.
Though the noonday sun is shining at the time the lynching's done,
Still the officers of justice can't detect a single one,
Who partook in Negro killing, for the deed no one is blamed,
And inside the nation's senate comes a voice, 'We're not ashamed.'
Is the same true when a white man leads a Negro girl astray?
When he takes away her virtue, is the same true? tell me, pray,
Do the press and pulpit clamor or condemn the mighty wrong?
Is there sentiment against it? is the burden of my song.
When the case is thus presented, they are silent as the grave,
And the law at once is powerless a Negro's name to save,
So you see the same continues and the truth is like a flood,
That in veins of Southern Negroes flow the best of Southern blood.
Can you tell of these mulattoes, did they fall here from the sky?
How is this that they're among us? can you tell the reason why?
Who's to blame for their existence? is the Negro race alone?
If there are such freaks in nature it is time to make them known.
'Tis a custom born of slavery when master's law and might,
Was enforced upon the bondsman without question of the right,
And the parson preached on Sunday how the servant should obey
All the mandates of the master, let them be whate'er they may.
O, how sad the tales of bondage when persuasive measures failed,
How they tortured Negro women till their hellish plans prevailed!
Women faithful to their virtue were as martyrs sent to rest,
Others yielded to the tempter, weary, helpless and distressed.
So the spirit lives at present for the master hand to rule,
Cook or washer, nurse or housemaid passes through this training school,
Lo! the greatest of temptations, men and devils there invent,
And present them to the servants, on their ruin so intent.
There's no friend to whom the dusky maiden can appeal for aid,
To the mistress of the home to speak of such she is afraid,
In the law there's no protection that a Negro girl can claim,
None to rescue, none to pity, so she enters into shame.
Now reflect for just a moment, in the light of what you see,
Which is worse, to yield the tempter or the evil one to be?
Can you still believe that Negroes are immoral more than whites?
O, how different the picture if the Negro had his rights!
There's a God who rules in justice, one who feels his children's pain,
So we know that sin and darkness cannot always hope to reign,
All the ills to Negro women will the Father bring to light,
For the Judge, the only Judge of all creation will do right.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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The most powerful person
Wealth, power, respect,
…….He had everything.
Dozens of servants,
Working under him.
His each second,
Was worth a million.
He had the power,
Power to control people
And the power to command respect.
But this powerful person,
Who had dozens of servants
Was himself a servant! ! !
A servant to……
His addiction of tobacco!
Oh! what a pity,
A person so powerful
Was under the control,
Of something so petty!
Power lies……
Not in controlling others,
But in the control
Of Yourself and Your Will.
poem by Ruby Moses Ezekiel
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Not because they were servants were we so reserved, for many noble persons are forced to serve through necessity, but by reason the vulgar sort of servants are as ill bred as meanly born, giving children ill examples and worse counsel.
quote by Margaret Cavendish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If any man claims the Negro should be content... let him say he would willingly change the color of his skin and go to live in the Negro section of a large city. Then and only then has he a right to such a claim.
quote by Robert Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But you can catch yourself entertaining habitually certain ideas and setting others aside; and that, I think, is where our personal destinies are largely decided.
quote by Alfred North Whitehead
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If any man claims the Negro should be content ... let him say he would willingly change the color of his skin and go to live in the Negro section of a large city. Then and only then has he a right to such a claim.
quote by Robert Francis Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Life of Man
The world's a bubble; and the life of man less than a span.
In his conception wretched; from the womb so to the tomb:
Curst from the cradle, and brought up to years, with cares and fears.
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
But limns the water, or but writes in dust.
Yet, since with sorrow here we live oppress'd, what life is best?
Courts are but only superficial schools to dandle fools:
The rural parts are turn'd into a den of savage men:
And where's a city from all vice so free,
But may be term'd the worst of all the three?
Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed, or pains his head:
Those that live single, take it for a curse, or do things worse:
Some would have children; those that have them none; or wish them gone.
What is it then to have no wife, but single thralldom or a double strife?
Our own affections still at home to please, is a disease:
To cross the sea to any foreign soil, perils and toil:
Wars with their noise affright us: when they cease,
We are worse in peace:
What then remains, but that we still should cry,
Not to be born, or being born, to die.
poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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I Hope You're Happy
I hope you're happy.
I hope you don't give it a second thought.
I hope you're happy but that's not enough.
I hope your miserble in that grave you dug.
I hope it's me you're thinking of when you choke on your tears.
I hope you waste the years with someone untrue.
I hope the words you said come back to haunt you.
The mistake you made, I hope it drives you insane.
I hope it hurts you to say my name.
If you're lonely you've got no one to blame but yourself.
So I hope your happy with somebody else.
I hope you're doing alright.
I hope it's guilt that keeps you up at night
I hope it eats you away.
I hope you regret every single day spent without me.
I hope it kills you to hear the truth spoken loudly.
I hope you have fun pretending to care about her.
I hope you believe that you can't live without her.
I hope you're happy.
I hope you don't fall apart.
I hope you're happy.
I hope she breaks your worthless heart.
poem by Samantha Ashley
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 40
A Chinese slave-girl having been brought to a king, he desired to have connection with her whilst in a state of intoxication but, as she repelled him, he became angry and presented her to one of his negro-slaves whose upper lip was higher than his nostrils whilst the lower one hung down to his neck. His stature was such that the demon Sakhrah would have been put to flight and a fountain of pitch emitted stench from his armpits.
Thou wouldst say that, till the resurrection, ugliness
Is his stamp as that of Joseph was beauty.
His person was of so wretched an aspect
That his ugliness surpassed all description
And from his armpits we take refuge with Allah,
They were like a corpse in the month of Merdad.
At that time the desire of the negro was libidinous, his lust overcame him, his love leapt up and he took off the seal of her virginity. In the morning the king sought the girl but could not find her and, having obtained information of what had taken place, he became angry, ordered the negro and the girl to be firmly tied together by their hands and feet and to be thrown from the lofty building into a ditch. One of the veziers, placing the face of intercession upon the ground, pleaded that there was no guilt in the negro since all the servants of his majesty usually receive presents and benefits as he had received the girl. The king rejoined: "What would it have mattered if he had for one night delayed his enjoyment?" He said: "My lord, hast thou not heard that it was said:
When a man with a burning thirst reaches a limpid spring,
Think not that he will care for a mad elephant.
When a hungry infidel is in an empty house at table
Reason will not believe that he cares for the Ramazan."
The king, being pleased with this sally, exclaimed: "I make thee a present of the negro. What am I to do with the girl?" He replied: "Give the girl to the negro because that half is also due to a dog of which he has consumed the other half."
The thirsty heart does not wish for limpid water
Half of which was consumed by a fetid mouth.
How can the king’s hand again touch
An orange after it has fallen into dung?
Men in Great Place are thrice Servants Servants of the Sovereign or State Servants of Fame and Servants of Business It is strange desire to seek Power and to lose Liberty.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ancient feud between cat and dog is not forgotten in the north, for the Lynx is the deadly foe of the Fox and habitually kills it when there is soft snow and scarcity of easier prey.
quote by Ernest Thompson Seton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Door of Hope
The president has thus disclosed
In words his noblest plan:
'The door of hope shall not be closed
Upon the Negro man.
'His opportunities must be
With other men's the same;
As nation's chief I will not see
Him forced in ways of shame.'
Official work he'd scarce begun
When from his lips did fall,
'A special right I give to none,
But equal rights to all.
'Square dealing for the soldiers true,
Who made this country grand;
But more than this no man is due,
And none shall less demand.
'I'm president of all the land,'
The broiling South was told.
'For truth and fight I mean to stand,
Such policy I hold.'
When urged to crush the Negro race,
He answered with a zest,
'All men of worth shall have a place,
True manhood is the test.
''Tis better all the people up,
Than keep a portion down,
You need, my friends, a loving cup,
Your prejudice to drown.
'The doors of hope are open wide
To all within the land,
With God forever on our side,
This sentiment will stand.'
With spinal column stout and strong,
With arm that's made of steel,
He crushes prejudice and wrong,
And makes the demons reel.
To heal the nation's open sore
Of hatred for a race,
He wider swings the open door,
And bares the monsters face.
No president could stem the tide
Of opposition blind,
Since Lincoln for the Negro died,
Till Roosevelt we find.
Long may he live to bless the land
With truth and liberty,
Who for the right will take a stand
And set a nation free.
Then Roosevelt for nineteen four
Our president should be,
Who gives to all an open door
Of opportunity.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Ode to the Modern Work-Man
O, wretched modern work-man
The years, they pass you by
Everything you believe
Is nothing but a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
From your neckties to your socks
You’re nothing but a slave
To pictures in a box.
O, wretched modern work-man
You live for the Public Eye
Your life is but a parody
Whose foundation is a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strive, and save, and yearn
To keep up with the Kamaus
Spending more than you earn.
O, wretched modern work-man
You’re nothing but a slave
Your dreams are dead and buried
Lying in a shallow grave.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strangled your own dreams
You smothered your own happiness
Your hand stifled its screams.
O, wretched modern work-man
For the camera so aesthetic
Beneath the plastic smile
You’re pitiful and pathetic.
O, wretched modern work-man
You work yourself half to death
Chasing pounds and shillings
To swell another’s wealth.
O, wretched modern work-man
You lived your whole life as a show
Yet the only Watcher who mattered
Didn’t like what He saw.
O, wretched modern work-man
When you finally died
Your surname, and hospital bill
Were all you left behind…
Must Be Freed
The ante-bellum Negro prayed,
For God to intercede,
And God in answer to him said,
'Your children shall be freed.'
The hand was seen upon the wall,
The fates at once decreed
That Negro bondsmen one and all,
Should soon be free, indeed.
'If Abraham Lincoln's president'
The South said, 'we'll secede;'
They apprehended he'd consent,
For Negroes to be freed.
To battle North against the South,
O'er states rights was agreed,
But echo from the cannon's mouth,
Said, 'Negroes must be freed.'
Confed'rates did with marked success,
McClellan's steps impede,
Till Abr'm Lincoln did confess,
That Negroes must be freed.
The Union boys with heaven's strength,
From that time did succeed;
And fought with valor till at length,
The Negro slaves were freed.
The Jim Crow car for Negroes made,
To crush their pride, indeed,
Has on the harps of thinkers played,
Those people must be freed.
The right of suffrage from the men,
Is taken out of greed;
A better day is coming when
They shall from this be freed.
Black men before the lyncher's rope,
In vain for mercy plead,
But justice cries, 'There is a hope,
From such you shall be freed.'
From ignorance and poverty,
From superstition's creed,
From those who crush his liberty,
The Negro must be freed.
The hand has written on the wall,
The clouds must all recede,
For God Whose word can never fall,
Says,'Negroes must be freed.'
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Wouldest Thou!
THY SERVANTS CLAIM THAT ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BELONGS TO YOU!
THY SCRIPTURES HAS IT WRITTEN! AND I QUOTE!
GO YE TO MY SERVANT JOB! DESTROY ALL HE HAS, BUT TOUCH NOT HIS LIFE!
THY SERVANTS SAY THIS TO ME!
IN EVERYTHING, GIVE THANKS UNTO GOD!
WOULDEST THOU GIVE THANKS UNTO ME IF I WERE GOD AND YOU WERE ME?
WOULDEST THOU WORSHIP ME IF I HAD DONE ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME BY THE DOINGS OF THINE SERVANTS?
THY SCRIPTURES HAST PROVEN THAT THE DOINGS OF THE DEVIL BE BY THY BIDDENS!
HOW THEN CAN THOU AND THINE HOUSEHOLD BE CALLED THE GOOD?
HOW THEN CANST THOU AND THINE HOUSEHOLD BE INNOCENT?
FOR ALL EVIL BY ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BE OF THEE!
FOR ALL POWERS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH BELONGS TO YOU! THEY CLAIM!
WOULDEST THOU RESPECT ME IF I DID UNTO YOU BY THE HANDS OF MINE SERVANTS ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME BY THE HANDS OF THINE SERVANTS?
WOULDEST THOU?
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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A Captive Who Is Not Captivated
Love is the only routine
that I wish to live for
Though that is impossible
under the terms that we
now live under
I understand this
What I want to know is
why is there no alternative
Why are we all forced
to live the same way
I would have to live
in another country
if I really wanted a change
If I spoke another language
I would get on a plane and go
Due to our useless education
that does not give us these skills
I am forced to stay here
like a captive who is not captivated
poem by Cokbod Lodwogo
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Sonnet: Master-servant Relationship
Where Master cares for servant’s welfare too
And treats him like a fellow-man at least,
And twain help each other to grow and woo,
The Master can never become a beast.
Where servant earns his master’s goodwill first,
By doing duty, uttering no word,
The Master cannot ever turn his worst,
Nor any time from hilt remove his sword!
Thus, master, servant is inseparable;
One thinks about the other all the time;
And love is born strong like in a fable,
With other’s help, each makes his life sublime.
Think of the other’s needs much more than self,
And never work for worldly acclaim/pelf.
7-26-2002
poem by John Celes
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The Negro Schools
Please be silent now, my country, while I fill the speaker's place;
While I point out some abuses that we constantly embrace,
Listen with your best attention to the words that I shall say,
How the Negro schools are managed, in this Commonwealth today.
All the officers are white men and together they conspire,
To undo the schools for Negroes, of such deeds they never tire;
Oft we find among the trustees men who cannot read a word,
But when speaking of the Negro, they are certain to be heard.
Education for the Negro they discourage, and they say,
'It will bring dissatisfaction to such people ev'ry day,
Make them crave for something higher, such as white men should enjoy,
Which will spoil the other Negroes that we have in our employ.'
Shorter terms are recommended many times as low as two
Are the months to Negroes given, in a year—now this is true,
Longer terms the whites are given in the same communities—
They conform to such a standard of the right with perfect ease.
Poorer pay to Negro teachers, driving good ones from the field,
Schools are let to lowest bidders to the same they're forced to yield,
Higher pay and better teachers for the white schools is the cry.
While encouragement is given Negro schools to starve and die.
Rural libraries established for the whites on ev'ry side,
But when application's made for Negro schools it is denied,
Thus they deal with education for the mass of Negro youth,
Posing still as great exponents and conservers of the truth.
From the sword of fierce Goliath we may all a lesson learn,
How while planning death to others on your head it may return,
In regard to schools for Negroes, cease their welfare to neglect,
For the same will come upon you in a way you least expect.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Washington shows the Negro not only at his best, but also at his worst.
quote by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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