Matches in DBpedia 2014 for { ?s ?p "Bury Me in a Free Land" is a poem by Frances Harper, an African American abolitionist and poet.Make me a grave where'er you will,In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;Make it among earth's humblest graves,But not in a land where men are slaves.I could not rest if around my graveI heard the steps of a trembling slave;His shadow above my silent tombWould make it a place of fearful gloom.I could not rest if I heard the treadOf a coffle gang to the shambles led,And the mother's shriek of wild despairRise like a curse on the trembling air.I could not sleep if I saw the lashDrinking her blood at each fearful gash,And I saw her babes torn from her breast,Like trembling doves from their parent nest.I'd shudder and start if I heard the bayOf bloodhounds seizing their human prey,And I heard the captive plead in vainAs they bound afresh his galling chain.If I saw young girls from their mother's armsBartered and sold for their youthful charms,My eye would flash with a mournful flame,My death-paled cheek grow red with shame.I would sleep, dear friends, where bloated mightCan rob no man of his dearest right;My rest shall be calm in any graveWhere none can call his brother a slave.I ask no monument, proud and high,To arrest the gaze of the passers-by;All that my yearning spirit craves,Is bury me not in a land of slaves.. }
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- Bury_Me_in_a_Free_Land abstract ""Bury Me in a Free Land" is a poem by Frances Harper, an African American abolitionist and poet.Make me a grave where'er you will,In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;Make it among earth's humblest graves,But not in a land where men are slaves.I could not rest if around my graveI heard the steps of a trembling slave;His shadow above my silent tombWould make it a place of fearful gloom.I could not rest if I heard the treadOf a coffle gang to the shambles led,And the mother's shriek of wild despairRise like a curse on the trembling air.I could not sleep if I saw the lashDrinking her blood at each fearful gash,And I saw her babes torn from her breast,Like trembling doves from their parent nest.I'd shudder and start if I heard the bayOf bloodhounds seizing their human prey,And I heard the captive plead in vainAs they bound afresh his galling chain.If I saw young girls from their mother's armsBartered and sold for their youthful charms,My eye would flash with a mournful flame,My death-paled cheek grow red with shame.I would sleep, dear friends, where bloated mightCan rob no man of his dearest right;My rest shall be calm in any graveWhere none can call his brother a slave.I ask no monument, proud and high,To arrest the gaze of the passers-by;All that my yearning spirit craves,Is bury me not in a land of slaves.".
- Bury_Me_in_a_Free_Land comment ""Bury Me in a Free Land" is a poem by Frances Harper, an African American abolitionist and poet.Make me a grave where'er you will,In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;Make it among earth's humblest graves,But not in a land where men are slaves.I could not rest if around my graveI heard the steps of a trembling slave;His shadow above my silent tombWould make it a place of fearful gloom.I could not rest if I heard the treadOf a coffle gang to the shambles led,And the mother's shriek of wild despairRise like a curse on the trembling air.I could not sleep if I saw the lashDrinking her blood at each fearful gash,And I saw her babes torn from her breast,Like trembling doves from their parent nest.I'd shudder and start if I heard the bayOf bloodhounds seizing their human prey,And I heard the captive plead in vainAs they bound afresh his galling chain.If I saw young girls from their mother's armsBartered and sold for their youthful charms,My eye would flash with a mournful flame,My death-paled cheek grow red with shame.I would sleep, dear friends, where bloated mightCan rob no man of his dearest right;My rest shall be calm in any graveWhere none can call his brother a slave.I ask no monument, proud and high,To arrest the gaze of the passers-by;All that my yearning spirit craves,Is bury me not in a land of slaves.".