FIFTY YEARS
Fifty Years & Other Poems
James Weldon Johnson
Boston, Mass: Cornhill Company, 1917
FIFTY YEARS
1863-1913
O brothers mine, to-day we stand
Where half a century sweeps our ken,
Since God, through Lincoln’s ready hand,
Struck off our bonds and made us men.
Just fifty years — a winter’s day—
As runs the history of a race;
Yet, as we look back o’er the way,
How distant seems our starting place!
As runs the history of a race;
Yet, as we look back o’er the way,
How distant seems our starting place!
Look farther back! Three centuries!
To where a naked, shivering score,
Snatched from their haunts across the seas,
Stood, wild-eyed, on Virginia’s shore.
To where a naked, shivering score,
Snatched from their haunts across the seas,
Stood, wild-eyed, on Virginia’s shore.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Then let us here erect a stone,
To mark the place, to mark the time;
A witness to God’s mercies shown,
A pledge to hold this day sublime.
And let that stone an altar be,
Whereon thanksgivings we may lay,
Where we, in deep humility,
For faith and strength renewed may pray.
Whereon thanksgivings we may lay,
Where we, in deep humility,
For faith and strength renewed may pray.
With open hearts ask from above
New zeal, new courage and new pow’rs,
That we may grow more worthy of
This country and this land of ours.
New zeal, new courage and new pow’rs,
That we may grow more worthy of
This country and this land of ours.
For never let the thought arise
That we are here on sufferance bare;
Outcasts, asylumed ‘neath these skies,
And aliens without part or share.
That we are here on sufferance bare;
Outcasts, asylumed ‘neath these skies,
And aliens without part or share.
This land is ours by right of birth,
This land is ours by right of toil;
We helped to turn its virgin earth,
Our sweat is in its fruitful soil.
This land is ours by right of toil;
We helped to turn its virgin earth,
Our sweat is in its fruitful soil.