In spite of the snares all around her;
Her marvelous pluck has prevailed
And kept her home together—
When even her men have failed.
What of her sweet, simple nature?
What of her natural grace?
Her richness and fullness of color,
That adds to the charm of her face?
Is there a woman more shapely?
More vigorous, loving and true?
Yea, wonderful Negro woman
The honor I’d give to you.
THE NEGRO CHILD
My little one of ebon hue,
My little one with fluffy hair,
The wide, wide world is calling you
To think and do and dare.
The lessons of stern yesterdays
That stir your blood and poise your brain
Are etching out the simple ways
By which you must attain.
An echo here, a memory there,
An act that links itself with truth;
A vision that makes troubles air
And toils the joy of youth.
These be your food, your drink, your rest,
These be your moods of drudgeful ease,
For these be nature’s spur and test
And heaven’s fair decrees.
