A New Song

A New Song

I speak in the name of the black millions

Awakening to action.

Let all others keep silent a moment

I have this word to bring,

This thing to say,

This song to sing:

Bitter was the day

When I bowed my back

Beneath the slaver's whip.

That day is past.

Bitter was the day

When I saw my children unschooled,

My young men without a voice in the world,

My women taken as the body-toys

Of a thieving people.

That day is past.

Bitter was the day, I say,

When the lyncher's rope

Hung about my neck,

And the fire scorched my feet,

And the oppressors had no pity,

And only in the sorrow songs

Relief was found.

That day is past.

I know full well now

Only my own hands,

Dark as the earth,

Can make my earth-dark body free.

O thieves, exploiters, killers,

No longer shall you say

With arrogant eyes and scornful lips:

"You are my servant,

Black man-

I, the free!"

That day is past-

For now,

In many mouths-

Dark mouths where red tongues burn

And white teeth gleam-

New words are formed,

Bitter

With the past

But sweet

With the dream.

Tense,

Unyielding,

Strongand sure,

They sweep the earth-

Revolt! Arise!

The Black

And White World

Shall be one!

The Worker's World!

The past is done!

A new dream flames

Against the

Sun!