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THE COMPLETE POEMS OF


Told us with pride in the story,Honest and noble and fine,More of the tale of my hero,Black Samson of Brandywine.
Sing of your chiefs and your nobles,Saxon and Celt and Gaul,Breath of mine ever shall join you,Highly I honor them all. Give to them all of their glory,But for this noble of mine,Lend him a tithe of your tribute,Black Samson of Brandywine.
There in the heat of the battle,There in the stir of the fight,Loomed he, an ebony giant,Black as the pinions of night.Swinging his scythe like a mowerOver a field of grain,Needless the care of the gleaners,Where he had passed amain.
Straight through the human harvest, Cutting a bloody swath,Woe to you, soldier of Briton!Death is abroad in his path.Flee from the scythe of the reaper,Flee while the moment is thine,None may with safety withstand him,Black Samson of Brandywine.
Was he a freeman or bondman?Was he a man or a thing?What does it matter? His brav'ryRenders him royal—a king.If he was only a chattel,Honor the ransom may payOf the royal, the loyal black giantWho fought for his country that day.
Noble and bright is the story,Worthy the touch of the lyre,Sculptor or poet should find itFull of the stuff to inspire.Beat it in brass and in copper,Tell it in storied line,So that the world may rememberBlack Samson of Brandywine.

THE LOOKING-GLASS

Dinah stan' befo' de glass,Lookin' moughty neat,An' huh purty shadder sassAt huh haid an' feet.While she sasshay 'roun' an' bow,Smilin' den an' poutin' now,An' de lookin'-glass, I 'lowSay: "Now, ain't she sweet?"
All she do, de glass it see,Hit des see, no mo',Seems to me, hit ought to beDrappin' on de flo'.She go w'en huh time git slack,Kissin' han's un smilin' back,Lawsy, how my lips g smack,Watchin' at de do'.

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