To The Freedman

Friend of the dusky visage, whereupon
When all things else have yielded to the light
Abides the cleaving shadow of a night
The darker for the noonday's fiercer sun;
Among earth's kindred nations nearer, none
Than thine and mine. Thou standest in the fight,
A slave beside a master for whose right
Thine arm, with his uplifted, lost or won.
Nay; now the victor vanquished, when the foe
Exulting in a land of bondage free,
Flung out the signal, "Smite the smiter!" lo,
Thou wouldst not; but with new-wed Liberty
Wentest thy way—nor yet as glad to go,
But oft in tears that all the world might see.