Frances Harper: "An Appeal to My Countrywomen"
PUBLISHED 1900
You can sigh o'er the sad-eyed Armenian When we plead for the wrecked and fallen,
Who weeps in her desolate home. The exile from far-distant shores,
You can mourn o'er the exile of Russia Remember that men are still wasting
From kindred and friends doomed to roam. 4 Life's crimson around our own doors. 32
You can pity the men who have woven Have ye not, oh, my favored sisters,
From passion and appetite chains Just a plea, a prayer or a tear,
To coil with a terrible tension For mothers who dwell 'neath the shadows
Around their heartstrings and brains. 8 Of agony, hatred and fear? 36
You can sorrow o'er little children Men may tread down the poor and lowly,
Disinherited from their birth, May crush them in anger and hate,
The wee waifs and toddlers neglected, But surely the mills of God's justice
Robbed of sunshine, music and mirth. 12 Will grind out the grist of their fate. 40
For beasts you have gentle compassion; Oh, people sin-laden and guilty,
Your mercy and pity they share. So lusty and proud in your prime,
For the wretched, outcast and fallen The sharp sickles of God's retribution
You have tenderness, love and care. 16 Will gather your harvest of crime. 44
But hark! from our Southland are floating Weep, not, oh my well-sheltered sisters,
Sobs of anguish, murmurs of pain, Weep not for the Negro alone,
And women heart-stricken are weeping But weep for your sons who must gather
Over their tortured and their slain. 20 The crops which their fathers have sown. 48
On their brows the sun has left traces; Go read on the tombstones of nations
Shrink not from their sorrow in scorn. Of chieftains who masterful trod,
When they entered the threshold of being The sentence which time has engraven,
The children of a King were born. 24 That they had forgotten their God. 52
Each comes as a guest to the table 'Tis the judgement of God that men reap
The hands of our God has outspread, The tares which in madness they sow,
To fountains that ever leap upward, Sorrow follows the footsteps of crime,
To share in the soil we all tread. 28 And Sin is the consort of Woe. 56
Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins. "An Appeal to My Countrywomen." Black Sister: Poetry by Black American Women, 1746-1980, edited by Erlene Stetson, Indiana University Press, 1981, p. 31. Gale Literature:
LitFinder, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/LTF0000279007WK/LITF?u=cuny_mancc&sid=LITF&xid=27d7bd42. Accessed 4 Mar. 2020.
