Fifty years & Other Poems - James Weldon Johnson

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in degradation, taught and learned,

      The memories of cruel sights and deeds,

      The pent-up bitterness, the unspent hate

      Filtered through fifteen generations have

      Sprung up and found in me sporadic life.

      In me the muttered curse of dying men,

      On me the stain of conquered women, and

      Consuming me the fearful fires of lust,

      Lit long ago, by other hands than mine.

      In me the down-crushed spirit, the hurled-back prayers

      Of wretches now long dead,—their dire bequests.—

      In me the echo of the stifled cry

      Of children for their bartered mothers' breasts.

      I claim no race, no race claims me; I am

      No more than human dregs; degenerate;

      The monstrous offspring of the monster, Sin;

      I am—just what I am.... The race that fed

      Your wives and nursed your babes would do the same

      To-day, but I—

      Enough, the brute must die!

      Quick! Chain him to that oak! It will resist

      The fire much longer than this slender pine.

      Now bring the fuel! Pile it 'round him! Wait!

      Pile not so fast or high! or we shall lose

      The agony and terror in his face.

      And now the torch! Good fuel that! the flames

      Already leap head-high. Ha! hear that shriek!

      And there's another! wilder than the first.

      Fetch water! Water! Pour a little on

      The fire, lest it should burn too fast. Hold so!

      Now let it slowly blaze again. See there!

      He squirms! He groans! His eyes bulge wildly out,

      Searching around in vain appeal for help!

      Another shriek, the last! Watch how the flesh

      Grows crisp and hangs till, turned to ash, it sifts

      Down through the coils of chain that hold erect

      The ghastly frame against the bark-scorched tree.

      Stop! to each man no more than one man's share.

      You take that bone, and you this tooth; the chain—

      Let us divide its links; this skull, of course,

      In fair division, to the leader comes.

      And now his fiendish crime has been avenged;

      Let us back to our wives and children.—Say,

      What did he mean by those last muttered words,

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