As the hearts of you who have laid it bare;
And our home be one with the outer air,
Heap wrong on wrong! We have had to bear
More wrongs than ever our tongues can tell;
One right is left us-we still forbear,
0 England, to use it-the right to rebel!
You think, may be borne by us unrepaid?
While on quivering flesh are the lashes laid?
0 England, are you never afraid
Of us you have tortured so long and so well?
Do you never doubt which the Fates would aid-
Of us or you-if we rose to rebel?
When, goaded to madness by you, we may
Forced on us many a bitter day?
You sow your seed in your old bad way,
And the bloody harvest do not foretell;
Yet, what shall your harvest be, who shall say,
When our patience withers, and we rebel?
And a black, black record behind you lies
Of the dumb despair in our children's eyes.
Our sisters' sobbing, our mothers' sighs--
These ring our quiescence its funeral knell;
Our patience is over and gone. Be wise,
Ere wisdom be vain, and your thralls rebel.