Douglass was someone who,
Had he walked with wary foot
And frightened tread,
From very indecision
Might be dead,
Might have lost his soul,
But instead decided to be bold
And capture every street,
On which he set his feet,
To route each path
Toward freedom’s goal,
To make each highway
Choose his compass’ choice
To all the world cried,
Hear my voice!...
Oh, to be a beast, a bird,
Anything but a slave! he said.
Who would be free
Themselves must strike
The first blow, he said.
He died in 1895.
He is not dead.
Had he walked with wary foot
And frightened tread,
From very indecision
Might be dead,
Might have lost his soul,
But instead decided to be bold
And capture every street,
On which he set his feet,
To route each path
Toward freedom’s goal,
To make each highway
Choose his compass’ choice
To all the world cried,
Hear my voice!...
Oh, to be a beast, a bird,
Anything but a slave! he said.
Who would be free
Themselves must strike
The first blow, he said.
He died in 1895.
He is not dead.
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