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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE PARIAH, by JAMES EDWIN CAMPBELL Poet's Biography First Line: Owned her father all the fact'ries Last Line: "while our bodies are but clods!" Subject(s): Racism; Racial Prejudice; Bigotry | |||
Owned her father all the fact'ries Which their black'ning smoke sent up, Miles and miles all 'round the country, From the town by hills pent up. Traced he back his proud ancestry To the Rock on Plymouth's shore, Traced I mine to Dutch ship landing At Jamestown, one year before. Thus was she of haughty lineage, I of mongrel race had sprung; O'er my fathers in the workfield Whips of scorpions had been swung. Years of freedom were her race's, Years of cruel slavery mine; Years of culture were her race's, Years of darkest ign'rance mine. She a lily sought by all men, I a thistle shunned by all; She the Brahmin, I the Pariah Who must e'er before her crawl. Fair was I as her complexion, Honest came my fairness, too, For my father and my mother Were in wedlock banded true. Yes, this mixing of the races Had been years, long years ago, That you could not trace the streamlet To the fountain whence the flow. Like an eagle long imprisoned Soared I into realms of light, Scorning all the narrow valley, Where my wings had plumed for flight. In the SUN of modern science I had soaring bathed my wings, And rose higher, higher, HIGHER, 'Bove a world of narrow things. Then on proudly soaring pinions I forgot my lowly birth, When Caste's arrow, venom laden, Struck me, shot me down to Earth. Kind and friendly had she ever Seemed and acted unto me, Till of late a cold restrainment Seemed to bar her manners free. Then my sens'tive soul quick thinking That the Pride of Caste was born In her mind, grew cold and distant, Though it pricked me like a thorn, And my thoughts grew dark and bitter, Bitter as the wild aloe. I became a sneering cynic, Deeming every man a foe, Scorning books while scorning people. In their pages naught I saw But I libelled, but I censured, Every sentence found a flaw; Till one night the mad mob gathered, Called in voices wild and loud I should quickly come before them, And address the raging crowd. They were strikers, who were workmen For her father stern and proud, And they threatened to destroy him And his works in curses loud. At the call I stepped before them, And they greeted wild and strong, And my heart grew hot with hatred Of Oppression, Caste and Wrong, While the words poured out like lava From the crater of my brain -- Burning, seething, hissing, raging With the years of pent-up pain. They had gathered by the great works, With their blazing furnace doors, And the lofty, flaming chimneys, Up whose throats the hot blast roars; And the furnace threw its hot light 'Pon their toilworn, swarthy faces, While the flames from out the chimnies Painted heaven with their blazes. In their hands they held their weapons -- Tools for toil, and not for war; On the great mill rolled and thundered, Shaking heaven with its jar. And their brows were dark with hatred, And their cheeks were hot with rage, And their voices low were growling, Like wild beasts penned in a cage. And the tiger rose within me With a growl that was a curse, And I breathed his breath of passion, And I felt his awful thirst. But her image came before me, With her sad, reproachful eyes, And her locks of sunset splendor When the summer daylight dies. Then banished was hot Passion, While Mercy pleaded low, And I cooled their angry fury, As hot iron is cooled in snow. And she comes and stands before me As I gaze into the stream, And I see her, I behold her As some vision in a dream, And the waves of love come surging And they sweep my will away, For I love her, O I love her -- Aye, forever and a day! And I called her: "Edie! Edie!" As I'd called her oft before, When as little guileless children We plucked lilies from this shore. Oh my voice sobbed like a harp string When the rough hand breaks a chord, And it wailed and moaned as sadly As some broken-hearted bard. And she came up to me quickly When I thus wailed out her name, All her soul rose in her blue eyes There was ne'er a look of shame, And she threw her arms up to me And I caught her to my heart, While the whole earth reeled beneath me And the heavens fell apart! Faint and trembling then I asked her What the cruel world would say, While she blushed but spoke out bravely: "We'll forget the World to-day. This I only know, I love you, I have loved you all the while; What care I then for your lineage Or the harsh world's frown or smile. Men are noble from their actions, From their deeds and theirs alone, Father's deeds are not their children's -- Reap not that by others sown. They are naught but dwarfish pigmies Who would scorn you for your birth; Who would scorn you for your lineage, Raise they not their eyes from Earth. What is blood? The human body? Trace it back, it leads to dust, Trace it forward, same conclusion, Naught but vile dust find you must. But the soul is sent from heaven And the Sculptor-Hand is God's Part and parcel of his being, While our bodies are but clods!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLACK WOMAN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FOREDOOM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON I MUST BECOME A MENACE TO MY ENEMIES by JUNE JORDAN A SONG FOR SOWETO by JUNE JORDAN ON THE LOSS OF ENERGY (AND OTHER THINGS) by JUNE JORDAN POEM ABOUT POLICE VIOLENCE by JUNE JORDAN DRAFT OF A RAP FOR WEN HO LEE by JUNE JORDAN THE NIGHT THAT LORCA COMES by BOB KAUFMAN THE MYSTIC RIVER by GALWAY KINNELL DE CUNJAH MAN by JAMES EDWIN CAMPBELL |
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