O whitened head entwined in turban gay, <br />O kind black face, O crude, but tender hand, <br />O foster-mother in whose arms there lay <br />The race whose sons are masters of the land! <br />It was thine arms that sheltered in their fold, <br />It was thine eyes that followed through the length <br />Of infant days these sons. In times of old <br />It was thy breast that nourished them to strength. <br />So often hast thou to thy bosom pressed <br />The golden head, the face and brow of snow; <br />So often has it 'gainst thy broad, dark breast <br />Lain, set off like a quickened cameo. <br />Thou simple soul, as cuddling down that babe <br />With thy sweet croon, so plaintive and so wild, <br />Came ne'er the thought to thee, swift like a stab, <br />That it some day might crush thine own black child?<br /><br />James Weldon Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-black-mammy/
