West Indies

The West Indies I behold,
Like the Hesperides of old,
Trees of life with fruits of gold.

No,— a curse is on their soil;
Bonds and scourges, tears and toil,
Man degrade and earth despoil.

Horror-struck, I turn away,
Coasting down the Mexique bay;
Slavery there hath had her day.

Hark! eight hundred thousand tongues
Startle midnight with strange songs;
England ends her negro's wrongs.

Loud the voice of freedom spoke,
Every accent split a yoke,
Every word a fetter broke.

South America expands
Forest-mountains, river-lands,
And a nobler race demands.

And a nobler race arise.
Stretch their limbs, unclose their eyes,
Claim the earth, and seek the skies.