A man as clean and white
In thoughts and deeds of right
As you, you faultless man
Advancing in the van
Of culture and of might;
A miser with your light
You would not even dream
Of letting go one beam,
To guide a groping man,
Who struggles as he can
To tread the path you tread,
Up steps of gushing red;
And if he but go wrong
You bellow loud and long,
In accents, strident, strong; —
Forgetting this, perchance,
That in your own advance,
The slips were even more,
And marked by pools of gore; —
You are a nobler man
Because you have no tan,
And he a very brute
Because of nature's soot;
But though he virtue lack,
And though his skin be black,
Beware lest he awakes!
When called he follows you
With arm as strong and true
As though you were his friend,
And fights unto the end,
That you may safely live;
Then surely you must give
The laurel branch and crown,
And gifts of just renown;
At least you must and can
Call him your brother man!

Ah, no! The cruel jeer
The ready curse and sneer
Are all that he may have —
A little less than slave,
He's spurned by your scorn,
And bound, both night and morn,
In chains of living death;
And if with longing breath
He breathes your air so free,
You hang him to a tree,
You hound of deviltry.
You burn him if he speak,
Until your freelands reek
From gory peak to peak,
With bloody, bloody sod,
And still there lives a God
But mark! there may draw near
A day red-eyed and drear,
A day of endless fear;
Beware, lest he awakes!