In dark fens of the Dismal Swamp <br />The hunted Negro lay; <br />He saw the fire of the midnight camp, <br />And heard at times a horse's tramp <br />And a bloodhound's distant bay. <br /> <br />Where will-o'-the-wisps and glow-worms shine, <br />In bulrush and in brake; <br />Where waving mosses shroud the pine, <br />And the cedar grows, and the poisonous vine <br />Is spotted like the snake; <br /> <br />Where hardly a human foot could pass, <br />Or a human heart would dare, <br />On the quaking turf of the green morass <br />He crouched in the rank and tangled grass, <br />Like a wild beast in his lair. <br /> <br />A poor old slave, infirm and lame; <br />Great scars deformed his face; <br />On his forehead he bore the brand of shame, <br />And the rags, that hid his mangled frame, <br />Were the livery of disgrace. <br /> <br />All things above were bright and fair, <br />All things were glad and free; <br />Lithe squirrels darted here and there, <br />And wild birds filled the echoing air <br />With songs of Liberty! <br /> <br />On him alone was the doom of pain, <br />From the morning of his birth; <br />On him alone the curse of Cain <br />Fell, like a flail on the garnered grain, <br />And struck him to the earth!<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-slave-in-the-dismal-swamp/
