Blessèd to cull from him, as the white lily
Culls from the golden bee,
The kiss of one who knows grim strife and toil;
To be all his treasure, to bear a son to him:
And in this son, fair and blameless,
Informed with all his father’s worth,
To nurse a hope, a hope eternal,
To find the joys of a falling world:
And to dream, through him continued
In the centuries to come,
Of the race of the unbowed, of the pure,
Destined to dazzling days of light:
Of an unstained race of slaves redeemed
Who amid songs shall reap
Harvests of freedom born from the weeping,
From the blood, from the very hearts, of their forerunners.
THREE LITERARY STUDIES