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POEMS OF SLAVERY: THE SLAVE IN THE DISMAL SWAMP

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow



Poems of Henry W. Longfellow. New York: A.L. Burt Co., 1901, page 230-321.

In the dark fens of the Dismal Swamp
  The hunted negro lay;
He saw the fire of the midnight
     camp,
And heard at times a horse's trams
  and a bloodhound's distant bay.
Where will-o'-the wisps and glowworms
     shine,
  In Bulrush and in brake;
Where waving mosses shroud the
     pine,
and the cedar grows, and the poisenous
     vine,
Is spotted like the snake;
Where hardly a human foot could
     pass,
  Or a human heart would dare,
On the quaking turf of the green
     morass
He crouched in the rank and tangled
     grass,
Like a wild beast in his lair.
A poor old slave, infirm and lame;
  Great scars deformed his face;
On his forehead he bore the brand
     of shame,
And the rags, that hid his mangled
     frame,
Were the livery of disgrace.
All things above were bright and fair,
  All things were glad and free;
Lithe squirrels darted here and there,
And wild birds filled the echoing
     air
  With songs of Liberty.
On him alone was the doom of pain,
  From the morning of his birth,
On him alone the Curse of Cain
Fell, like a flail on the garnered
     grain,
and struck him to the earth.
The Slave Singing at Midnight