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In 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 tramp
And a bloodhound's distant bay.
Where will-o'-the-wisps and glow-worms shine,
In bulrush and in brake;
Where waving mosses shroud the pine,
And the cedar grows, and the poisonous 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!
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Comments
I have loved this poem for quite awhile now. This great swamp id about 2 miles from my house and I've grown up listening to the ledgends and stories of it.
I was very close to Chief Running Deer who was always called upon when ever someone would becaome l;ost in this swamp. He'd always find them and never once did anyone thank him. The Native here would always help to hide the run away slaves who ventured into the swamp. I love the fact that Longfellow took this knowledge and wrote about it. This is a brillent work of art, something to be treasured. I for one will always count this as one of my favorites!
Thank you.
Sherry Falling Leaf Jones from United States