Monday, July 2, 2007

Frederick Douglass

Robert Hayden (1962)

When it is finally ours, this freedom, this liberty, this beautiful
and terrible thing, needful to man as air,
usable as earth; when it belongs at last to all,
when it is truly instinct, brain matter, diastole, systole,
reflex action; when it is finally won; when it is more
than the gaudy mumbo jumbo of politicians;
this man, this Douglass, this former slave, this Negro
beaten to his knees, exiled, visioning a world
where none is lonely, none hunted, alien,
this man, superb in love and logic, this man
shall be remembered. Oh, not with statues' rhetoric,
not with legends and poems and wreaths of bronze alone,
but with the lives grown out of his life, the lives
fleshing his dream of the beautiful, needful thing.


dan1968 said...

I read the Autobiography (Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass) for a class a long time ago. It's short (126 pages, 4"x7") and well-worth the effort of reading / re-reading.

ethan said...

I've always wanted to read that book. nice poem too.

Anonymous said...

hey, I was going to say that. =)