By James Monroe Whitfield

‘To Cinque’, in America and Other Poems, Buffalo, USA, 1853

All hail! thou truly noble chief,
Who scorned to live a cowering slave;
Thy name shall stand on history’s leaf,
Amid the mighty and the brave:
Thy name shall shine, a glorious light
To other brave and fearless men,
Who, like thyself, in freedom’s might,
Shall beard the robber in his den.
Thy name shall stand on history’s page,
And brighter, brighter, brighter grow,
Throughout all time, through every age,
Till bosoms cease to feel or know
“Created worth, or human woe.”
Thy name shall nerve the patriot’s hand
When, ‘mid the battle’s deadly strife,
The glittering bayonet and brand
Are crimsoned with the stream of life:
When the dark clouds of battle roll,
And slaughter reigns without control,
Thy name shall then fresh life impart,
And fire anew each freeman’s heart.
Though wealth and power their force combine
To crush thy noble spirit down,
There is above a power divine
Shall bear thee up against their frown.

To honor this thunderous month….

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