I said unto myself, if I were dead, What would befall these children? What would be Their fate, who now are looking up to me For help and furtherance? Their lives, I said, Would be a volume wherein I have read But the first chapters, and no longer see To read the rest of their dear history, So full of beauty and so full of dread. Be comforted; the world is very old, And generations pass, as they have passed, A troop of shadows moving with the sun; Thousands of times has the old tale been told; The world belongs to those who come the last, They will find hope and strength as we have done. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE MEASURE OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN A PLANTATION BACCHANAL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ANSWER TO PRAYER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON HER EYES TWIN POOLS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON LOHENGRIN; PROEM by EMMA LAZARUS THE SLAVE TRADE: VIEW FROM THE MIDDLE PASSAGE by CLARENCE MAJOR |