| |
| OUT of the depths of despair | |
| There cometh a plaint and a prayer; | |
| Give ear to this cry, O my brothers, | |
| From lips that have pleaded for others! | |
| |
| “Must I die in the land of the living | 5 |
| A terrible two-fold death, | |
| Or come ye with mercy, life-giving, | |
| Ere the angel shall stifle my breath? | |
| |
| “I found a world of oppression, | |
| Of merciless hatred and greed; | 10 |
| God’s wrath—I gave it expression, | |
| And the world it could not but heed. | |
| |
| “I heard how my people were groaning | |
| ’Neath tyranny’s pitiless yoke, | |
| And I uttered their muffled moaning | 15 |
| Till men turned pale as I spoke. | |
| |
| “And all the reward that I sought for | |
| Was to share in the ending of wrong; | |
| But I fell in the cause that I fought for, | |
| Too weak for even a song. | 20 |
| |
| “I am still in the land of the living | |
| Where greed and oppression abound; | |
| Yet spite of my saddest misgiving, | |
| My voice can not utter a sound. | |
| |
| “Will you praise me and call me a prophet | 25 |
| When my bones lie under the sod?— | |
| If I heed it at all, I shall scoff it | |
| And call you to ’count before God. | |
| |
| “A crust of bread for each flower | |
| You are saving to lay on my tomb, | 30 |
| Mayhap would yield me the power | |
| The song of my youth to resume. | |
| |
| “’Tis no marble pillar I task for | |
| But for Truth and Right alone; | |
| Then stint not the pity I ask for, | 35 |
| To pay me for bread, with a stone.” | |
| |
| Out of the depths of despair | |
| O hearken a plaint and a prayer! | |
| O brothers, make haste to attend it | |
| Ere comes the grim Reaper to end it. | 40 |
| |
| That ancient and often-told story | |
| Of a prophet despoiled of his glory, | |
| Till, deaf to the praise of vain mortals, | |
| He enters eternity’s portals. | |
| |
