En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Garden Plot

When Naboth's vineyard look'd so fine,
The king cried out, 'Would this were mine!'
And yet no reason could prevail
To bring the owner to a sale.
Jezebel saw, with haughty pride,
How Ahab grieved to be denied;
And thus accosted him with scorn:
'Shall Naboth make a monarch mourn?
A king, and weep! The ground's your own;
I'll vest the garden in the crown.'
With that she hatch'd a plot, and made
Poor Naboth answer with his head;
And when his harmless blood was spilt,
The ground became his forfeit guilt.

poem by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Elijah Doing Here?

Here Elijah is reclining on his bed,

Waiting for the Divine to pass,

Enjoying the wind rushing by his head,

Stirring the the meadow’s tall grass.

As the ground quietly but suddenly moves,

And a shudder takes control of his heart,

He wonders what this episode proves,

As his expectations go off the chart.

The panorama of Naboth’s vineyard

Gives him a certain tremor still.

But with the great charity of GOD,

He drinks Ahab’s wine to the fill.

The vines bending with ripe blue grapes

Appear as a blaze across the land.

The eternal refining fire no one escapes,

Until his faith has an edge none can make bland.

He hears a whisper echo in the cave,

Inquiring for a reason he abides here.

The voice now sounding clearly more grave,

Asks of him, What doeth thou here, Elijah?

And then again, What doeth thou here, Elijah?

poem by Albert Price
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Hes The King

(harold faltermeyer/ gernot rothenbach)
Producers for bonnie: harold faltermeyer and gernot rothenbach
Hes seen all the changes
been going up and down
Had to rearrange it
But never lost his crown
Never was afraid of
Playing his last round
He is, he is the king
Look into his face
It never told you lies
Falling down from grace
Has been more than twice
But theres always one thing
You should realise
He is, he is the king
He is the king
No one else will be around
He is the king
Sometimes lost but now hes found
Without losing all, you wont touch sacred ground
He is, he is the king
He is the king
Loving her was easy,
They were day and night
Trying to release her
Was a never ending fight
He had only one chance
Playing for her life
He is, he is the king
But theres always one thing
You should realise
He is, he is the king
He is the king
No one else will be around
He is the king
Sometimes lost but now hes found
Without losing all, you wont touch sacred ground
He is, he is the king
He is the king
No one else will be around
He is the king
Sometimes lost but now hes found
Without losing all, you wont touch sacred ground, yeah
He is, he is the king
He is the king

song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Without A Crown

Welcome to the great republic
Guess I should show you round
Where once I was a king
And now I am a clown
The love that we once shared
Made a king of me
But now youre gone... but now youre gone
All I face is poverty
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
Hell hath no fury
Like a woman scorned
But heaven dont boast - no heaven dont boast
The jewel - the pretty jewel I just pawned
Every cloud has a silver lining
Every dog has its day
Oh but I guess the sun stopped shining
On the day you went away
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Yes Im a king - king! king without a crown
Bathed in former glory
Deposed from my throne
How do I get to tell my story?
When all gets your answerphone...
But you aint home
With the love you gave
I felt like royalty
But now youre face to face - face to face
With one ex-member of the aristocracy
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
...king without a heart
...king without a hope
...king without a woman baby
Oh Im a king without a crown
Theres no need to feel down
Yeah just take a look around
Youll see a man whos just a man
Nothing more
A king without a crown

song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Three Kings Of Cologne

From out Cologne there came three kings
To worship Jesus Christ, their King.
To Him they sought fine herbs they brought,
And many a beauteous golden thing;
They brought their gifts to Bethlehem town,
And in that manger set them down.

Then spake the first king, and he said:
'O Child, most heavenly, bright, and fair!
I bring this crown to Bethlehem town
For Thee, and only Thee, to wear;
So give a heavenly crown to me
When I shall come at last to Thee!'

The second, then. 'I bring Thee here
This royal robe, O Child!' he cried;
'Of silk 'tis spun, and such an one
There is not in the world beside;
So in the day of doom requite
Me with a heavenly robe of white!'

The third king gave his gift, and quoth:
'Spikenard and myrrh to Thee I bring,
And with these twain would I most fain
Anoint the body of my King;
So may their incense sometime rise
To plead for me in yonder skies!'

Thus spake the three kings of Cologne,
That gave their gifts, and went their way;
And now kneel I in prayer hard by
The cradle of the Child to-day;
Nor crown, nor robe, nor spice I bring
As offering unto Christ, my King.

Yet have I brought a gift the Child
May not despise, however small;
For here I lay my heart to-day,
And it is full of love to all.
Take Thou the poor but loyal thing,
My only tribute, Christ, my King!

poem by Eugene Field
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Sid Hamet’s Rod

Poor Hall, renown'd for comely hair,
Whose hands, perhaps, were not so fair,
Yet had a Jezebel as near;
Hall, of small scripture conversation,
Yet, howe'er Hungerford's quotation,
By some strange accident had got
The story of this garden-plot;—Wisely
foresaw he might have reason
To dread a modern bill of treason,
If Jezebel should please to want
His small addition to her grant:
Therefore resolved, in humble sort,
To begin first, and make his court;
And, seeing nothing else would do,
Gave a third part, to save the other two.

poem by Jonathan Swift
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Vashti

She leaned her head upon her hand
And heard the King's decree --
"My lords are feasting in my halls;
Bid Vashti come to me.

"I've shown the treasures of my house,
My costly jewels rare,
But with the glory of her eyes
No rubies can compare.

"Adorn'd and crown'd I'd have her come,
With all her queenly grace,
And, 'mid my lords and mighty men,
Unveil her lovely face.

"Each gem that sparkles in my crown,
Or glitters on my throne,
Grows poor and pale when she appears,
My beautiful, my own!"

All waiting stood the chamberlains
To hear the Queen's reply.
They saw her cheek grow deathly pale,
But light flash'd to her eye:

"Go, tell the King," she proudly said,
"That I am Persia's Queen,
And by his crowds of merry men
I never will be seen.

"I'll take the crown from off my head
And tread it 'neath my feet,
Before their rude and careless gaze
My shrinking eyes shall meet.

"A queen unveil'd before the crowd! --
Upon each lip my name! --
Why, Persia's women all would blush
And weep for Vashti's shame!

"Go back!" she cried, and waved her hand,
And grief was in her eye:
"Go, tell the King," she sadly said,
"That I would rather die."

They brought her message to the King;
Dark flash'd his angry eye;
'Twas as the lightning ere the storm
Hath swept in fury by.

Then bitterly outspoke the King,
Through purple lips of wrath --
"What shall be done to her who dares
To cross your monarch's path?"

Then spake his wily counsellors --
"O King of this fair land!
From distant Ind to Ethiop,
All bow to thy command.

"But if, before thy servants' eyes,
This thing they plainly see,
That Vashti doth not heed thy will
Nor yield herself to thee,

"The women, restive 'neath our rule,
Would learn to scorn our name,
And from her deed to us would come
Reproach and burning shame.

"Then, gracious King, sign with thy hand
This stern but just decree,
That Vashti lay aside her crown,
Thy Queen no more to be."

She heard again the King's command,
And left her high estate;
Strong in her earnest womanhood,
She calmly met her fate,

And left the palace of the King,
Proud of her spotless name --
A woman who could bend to grief,
But would not bow to shame.

poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Fate Of An Innocent Dog

When Tiger left his native yard,
He did not many ills regard,
A fleet and harmless cur;
Indeed, he was a trusty dog,
And did not through the pastures prog;
The grazing flocks to stir, poor dog,
The grazing flocks to stir.

He through a field by chance was led,
In quest of game not far ahead,
And made one active leap;
When all at once, alarm'd, he spied,
A creature welt'ring on its side,
A deadly wounded sheep, alas!
A deadly wounded sheep.

He there was fill'd with sudden fear,
Apprized of lurking danger near,
And there he left his trail;
Indeed, he was afraid to yelp,
Nor could he grant the creature help,
But wheel'd and drop'd his tail, poor dog,
But wheel'd and drop'd his tail.

It was his pass-time, pride and fun,
At morn the nimble hare to run,
When frost was on the grass;
Returning home who should he meet?
The weather's owner, coming fleet,
Who scorn'd to let him pass, alas!
Who scorn'd to let him pass.

Tiger could but his bristles raise,
A surly compliment he pays,
Insulted shows his wrath;
Returns a just defensive growl,
And does not turn aside to prowl,
But onward keeps the path, poor dog,
But onward keeps the path.

The raging owner found the brute,
But could afford it no recruit,
Nor raise it up to stand;
'Twas mangled by some other dogs,
A set of detrimental rogues,
Raised up at no command, alas!
Raised up at no command.

Sagacious Tiger left his bogs,
But bore the blame of other dogs,
With powder, fire and ball;
They kill'd the poor, unlawful game,
And then came back and eat the same ;
But Tiger paid for all, poor dog,
But Tiger paid for all.

Let ev'ry harmless dog beware
Lest he be taken in the snare,
And scorn such fields to roam;
A creature may be fraught with grace,
And suffer for the vile and base,
By straggling off from home, alas!
By straggling off from home.

The blood of creatures oft is spilt,
Who die without a shade of guilt;
Look out, or cease to roam;
Whilst up and down the world he plays
For pleasure, man in danger strays
Without a friend from home, alas!
Without a friend from home.

poem by George Moses Horton
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Tenth Sunday After Trinity

Why doth my Saviour weep
At sight of Sion's bowers?
Shows it not fair from yonder steep,
Her gorgeous crown of towers?
Mark well His holy pains:
'Tis not in pride or scorn,
That Israel's King with sorrow stains
His own triumphal morn.

It is not that His soul
Is wandering sadly on,
In thought how soon at death's dark goal
Their course will all be run,
Who now are shouting round
Hosanna to their chief;
No thought like this in Him is found,
This were a Conquerer's grief.

Or doth He feel the Cross
Already in His heart,
The pain, the shame, the scorn, the loss?
Feel e'en His God depart?
No: though He knew full well
The grief that then shall be -
The grief that angels cannot tell -
Our God in agony.

It is not thus He mourns;
Such might be martyr's tears,
When his last lingering look he turns
On human hopes and fears;
But hero ne'er or saint
The secret load might know,
With which His spirit waxeth faint;
His is a Saviour's woe.

"If thou had'st known, e'en thou,
At least in this thy day,
The message of thy peace! but now
'Tis passed for aye away:
Now foes shall trench thee round,
And lay thee even with earth,
And dash thy children to the ground,
Thy glory and thy mirth."

And doth the Saviour weep
Over His people's sin,
Because we will not let Him keep
The souls He died to win?
Ye hearts, that love the Lord,
If at this, sight ye burn,
See that in thought, in deed, in word,
Ye hate what made Him mourn.

poem by John Keble
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The King Has Lost His Crown

Ahhhaaaa......
I believe your new girl turned you down
And they say shes pushing you around
How does it feel, I guess it hurts your pride
Tell me my friend how many nights you cried
Disaster and disgrace
The king has lost his crown
Suddenly
Hes clumsy like a clown
Aaaaah
The world is upside down
The king has lost his crown
Was it hard to step down from your throne
And to know tonight youre all alone
Oh what a shame, you really want that girl
She doesnt care, still you just dream of her
Disaster and disgrace
The king has lost his crown
Suddenly
Hes clumsy like a clown
Ha-aaaahh
The world is upside down
The king has lost his crown
Disaster and disgrace
The word is all around
Suddenly
Hes clumsy like a clown
Aaaaaaa-ah
The world is upside down
The king has lost his crown

song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coronation

At the king's gate the subtle noon
Wove filmy yellow nets of sun;
Into the drowsy snare too soon
The guards fell one by one.

Through the king's gate, unquestioned then,
A beggar went and laughed, 'This brings
Me chance, at last, to see if men
Fare better being kings.'

The king sat bowed beneath his crown,
Propping his face with listless hand;
Watching the hour-glass sifting down
Too slow its shining sand.

'Poor man, what wouldst thou have of me?'
The beggar turned, and pitying,
Replied, like one in dream, 'Of thee,
Nothing. I want the king.'

Uprose the king, and from his head
Shook off the crown, and threw it by.
'O man, thou must have known,' said he,
'A greater king than I.'

Through all the gates, unquestioned then,
Went king and beggar hand in hand.
Whispered the king, 'Shall I know when
Before
his
throne I stand?'

The beggar laughed. Free winds in haste
Were wiping from the king's hot brow
The crimson lines the crown had traced.
'This is his presence now.'

At the king's gate, the crafty noon
Unwove its yellow nets of sun;
Out of their sleep in terror soon
The guards waked one by one.

'Ho here! Ho There! Has no man seen
The king?' The cry ran to and fro;
Beggar and king, they laughed, I ween,
The laugh that free men know.

On the king's gate the moss grew gray;
The king came not. They called him dead;
And made his eldest son one day
Slave in his father's stead.

poem by Helen Hunt Jackson
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This Side of the Truth

(for Llewelyn)

This side of the truth,
You may not see, my son,
King of your blue eyes
In the blinding country of youth,
That all is undone,
Under the unminding skies,
Of innocence and guilt
Before you move to make
One gesture of the heart or head,
Is gathered and spilt
Into the winding dark
Like the dust of the dead.

Good and bad, two ways
Of moving about your death
By the grinding sea,
King of your heart in the blind days,
Blow away like breath,
Go crying through you and me
And the souls of all men
Into the innocent
Dark, and the guilty dark, and good
Death, and bad death, and then
In the last element
Fly like the stars' blood

Like the sun's tears,
Like the moon's seed, rubbish
And fire, the flying rant
Of the sky, king of your six years.
And the wicked wish,
Down the beginning of plants
And animals and birds,
Water and Light, the earth and sky,
Is cast before you move,
And all your deeds and words,
Each truth, each lie,
Die in unjudging love.

poem by Dylan Thomas
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King Electric

King electric, motor on
The king is dead, the king is gone
The king is in us, let his song
Play on!
King electric, motor on
The king is dead, the king is gone
The king is in us, let his song
Play on!
I was cutting a dash down bleecker street
The sewer was a-staiming underneath my feet
I looked down macdougal bout half a block
Said to myself thats where you come from
I got a vision right there and then in my minds eye
You in your finery, strolling by
Hands on your hip and your guitar case
Sound of the future blowing in your face
King electric, motor on
The king is dead, the king is gone
The king is in us, let his song
Play on!
I stepped down the stairs, ventured through the door
Sound nearly knocked me clean to singapore
Black man child waltzing cross the stage
Squeezing guitar, singing purple haze
King electric, motor on
The king is dead, the king is gone
The king is in us, let his song
Play on!
I remember back home, many moons ago
I had a front-room band, you should have heard us blow
We were rough as a dog, loud as sin
With a lead guitar player, name of davy flynn
He could play with his teeth, upside of his head
He could make that thing ring like a-raising that dead
You were his idol, you were his man
I didnt get it then davy, now I understand
King electric, motor on
The king is dead, the king is gone
The king is in us, let his song
Play on!
cos you were just to early, I was just too late
You were just too fine, you were just too great
You were just too real, you were just too true
This world wasnt beautiful enough for you
King electric, motor on
The king is dead, the king is gone
The king is in us, let his song
Play on!
Keep your electric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah
Keep your electric eye on me, babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sultana's Remonstrance

IT suits thee well to weep,
As thou lookest on the fair land,
Whose sceptre thou hast held
With less than woman's hand.

On yon bright city gaze,
With its white and marble halls,
The glory of its lofty towers,
The strength of its proud walls.

And look to yonder palace,
With its garden of the rose,
With its groves and silver fountains,
Fit for a king's repose.

There is weeping in that city,
And a cry of woe and shame,
There's a whisper of dishonour,
And that whisper is thy name.

And the stranger's feast is spread,
But it is no feast of thine;
In thine own halls accursed lips
Drain the forbidden wine.

And aged men are in the streets,
Who mourn their length of days,
And young knights stand with folded arms,
And eyes they dare not raise.

There is not one whose blood was not
As the waves of ocean free,--
Their fathers died for thy fathers,
They would have died for thee.

Weep not, 'tis mine to weep,
That ever thou wert born,
Alas, that all a mother's love
Is lost in a queen's scorn!

Yet weep, thou less than woman, weep,
Those tears become thine eye,--
It suits thee well to weep the land
For which thou daredst not die.*

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Licia Sonnets 12

I wish sometimes, although a worthless thing,
Spurred by ambition, glad to aspire,
Myself a monarch, or some mighty king,
And then my thoughts do wish for to be higher.
But when I view what winds the cedars toss.
What storms men feels that covet for renown,
I blame myself that I have wished my loss,
And scorn a kingdom, though it give a crown.
Ah Licia, though the wonder of my thought,
My heart's content, procurer of my bliss,
For whom a crown I do esteem as naught,
As Asia's wealth, too mean to buy a kiss!
Kiss me, sweet love, this favor do for me;
Then crowns and kingdoms shall I scorn for thee.

poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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The King's Pilgrimage

Our King went forth on pilgrimage
His prayers and vows to pay
To them that saved our heritage
And cast their own away.

And there was little show of pride,
Or prows of belted steel,
For the clean-swept oceans every side
Lay free to every keel.

And the first land he found, it was shoal and banky ground -
Where the broader seas begin,
And a pale tide grieving at the broken harbour-mouth
Where they worked the death-ships in.

And there was neither gull on the wing,
Nor wave that could not tell
Of the bodies that were buckled in the life-buoy's ring
That slid from swell to swell.

All that they had they gave - they gave; and they shall not return,
For these are those that have no grave where any heart may mourn.

And the next land he found, it was low and hollow ground -
Where once the cities stood,
But the man-high thistle had been master of it all,
Or the bulrush by the flood.

And there was neither blade of grass,
Nor lone star in the sky
But shook to see some spirit pass
And took its agony.

And the next land be found, it was bare and hilly round -
Where once the bread-corn grew,
But the fields were cankered and the water was defiled,
And the trees were riven through.

And there was neither paved highway,
Nor secret path in the wood,
But had borne its weight of the broken clay
And darkened 'neath the blood.

Father and mother they put aside, and the nearer love also -
An hundred thousand men who died whose graves shall no man
know.

And the last land he found, it was fair and level ground
About a carven stone,
And a stark Sword brooding on the bosom of the Cross
Where high and low are one.

And there was grass and the living trees,
And the flowers of the spring,
And there lay gentlemen from out of all the seas
That ever called him King.

'Twixt Nieuport sands and the eastward lands where the Four Red Rivers spring,
Five hundred thousand gentlemen of those that served their King.

All that they had they gave - they gave -
In sure and single faith.
There can no knowledge reach the grave
To make them grudge their death
Save only if they understood
That, after all was done,
We they redeemed denied their blood
And mocked the gains it won.

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Psalm 75

Power and government from God alone.
[Applied to the glorious Revolution by King William, or the happy accession of King George to the throne.]

To thee, most Holy and most High,
To thee we bring our thankful praise;
Thy works declare thy name is nigh,
Thy works of wonder and of grace.

Britain was doomed to be a slave,
Her frame dissolved, her fears were great;
When God a new supporter gave,
To bear the pillars of the state.

He from thy hand received his crown,
And sware to rule by wholesome laws;
His foot shall tread th' oppressor down,
His arm defend the righteous cause.

Let haughty sinners sink their pride,
Nor lift so high their scornful head;
But lay their foolish thoughts aside,
And own the king that God hath made.

Such honors never come by chance,
Nor do the winds promotion blow;
'Tis God the Judge doth one advance,
'Tis God that lays another low.

No vain pretence to royal birth
Shall fix a tyrant on the throne:
God, the great Sovereign of the earth,
Will rise and make his justice known.

[His hand holds out the dreadful cup
Of vengeance mixed with various plagues,
To make the wicked drink them up,
Wring out and taste the bitter dregs.

Now shall the Lord exalt the just;
And while he tramples on the proud,
And lays their glory in the dust,
My lips shall sing his praise aloud.]

poem by Isaac Watts
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King Of The Mountain

Come on
Im gonna climb the mountain
Im gonna hit the top
I wanna go where nobodys ever been
Im never gonna stop
Im gonna reign, Im gonna shine
Im gonna beat the ground
Im gonna shoot through the night like a shot gun
Im gonna get on down, I wanna get on down
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain
Listen, dont try to save my soul from destruction
Im never gonna fall
Dont try to give me a piece of the action
Im gonna take it all
All the kings horses, all the kings men
Were gettin crazy again and again
Make up your mind, its time we get goin
Were gonna get on down, were gonna get on down
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain
Yeah, now
Oh, yeah, king of the mountain
Say it, king of the mountain
Im the king of the mountain, Im the king of the mountain, yeah
Im the king of the mountain
And the winner takes it all, lets go, lets go, lets go

song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Rocker

Jailhouse rocker roots training down
In memphis
Liverpool johnny rocks out round pauls place
Seconds away as the rhythm comes down
King faces king in the ring for the crown
King rocker king rocker - rock rock rock
King kong
King kong
Elvis from the body shakes from the hipbone
Quarry st. kids in leather take hamburg
Creole was sharp but his guitar was acoustic
Go johnny go use your electric
-crazy man crazy
King rocker king rocker - rock rock rock
King kong
King kong
King rocker king rocker - rock rock rock
King kong
Round three - ali buzzin like a bee,
Elvis in the corner and you wont catch me
Round four - johnny lookin poor,
Gotta find a hit gotta even up the score
Round five - some jive, elvis took a dive
Waitin for the towel more dead than alive
Round six, seven, eight, nine, -
Ref stops the fight with the men on forty two
For a rematch in heaven
If they ever come through
[gotta] see this fight right thru til the last round
Follow the man
Whose puttin out the boss sound
Of king rocker king rocker -rock rock rock
King kong
King kong
King kong
King kong
King rocker king rocker -rock rock rock
King kong
King kong
King kong
King kong

song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Karpet King

Gold sun-glasses and a wandering eye
He looks like hes wearing a cheap disguise
But its real
Dont you know how it feels
He goes to work and he scares the hell
Out of all the girls down in oradell
What a deal
Dont you know how it feels
Lay it down, lay it down
Youve got to cover a lot of ground
Lay it down, lay it down
Karpet king
Karpet king
Half a drink and hes out of his head
He puts the boys back into their beds
And hes free
Thats the way it should be
Out every night with the girl of his dreams
He knows itll never be quite what it seems
To be
Dont you want hell to be
Lay it down, lay it down
Youve got to cover a lot of ground
Lay it down, lay it down
Karpet king
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
Lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
(repeat and fade)

song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Retribution

When Egypt said, 'Exterminate
The males among the Jews,
Fair Goshen's land make desolate
And bid them glad adieus:'

The darkest hour then was brought
Upon their slavery,
But God came down, with Egypt fought,
And made the bondsmen free.

No means of peace within the bout
Could pay the price—'tis plain—
The measure they had meted out
Was measured back again.

For blood of Hebrews had been spilt,
And justice did demand
Egyptian blood to cleanse the guilt—
The firstborn of the land!

America! how canst thou tell
Thy tale of bondage sore?
How blood as rain from Negroes fell,
Till many were no more!

The blood of Negroes cried so loud,
For vengeance from the ground,
Till clouds of sorrow wept and bowed
And heaven's anger frowned.

No peaceful means, 'tis understood,
Could end the dread affray;
For justice cried, 'Slave-owners' blood
In war the debt shall pay!'

The Negroes of the country now
Are held in open scorn,
To other peoples forced to bow,
Though often higher born.

To lynch a Negro is no crime,
The courts of justice say;
And so 'tis done at any time,
A mob may set a day.

The night is darkest near the dawn,
The voice of nature speaks;
The blood that's from the Negroes drawn
A retribution seeks.

'Revenge is mine, I will repay,'
The God of right declares.
The savage mob, with regal sway
A nation's curse prepares.

America! a warning take,
Repent! forsake the wrong!
Thine evil ways at once forsake,
Thy time cannot be long!

The morning star begins to rise,
The darkest night dispels,
Its ray of hope illumes the skies,
And precious dawn foretells.

America! rouse up! awake!
For God is living still,
Who will of wrong a sample make,
When sin has drunk its fill!

poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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