Explore "My Country" by Sarah Louisa Forten Purvis on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh! speak not of heathenish darkness again, / Nor tell me of lands held in error's dread chain!
Where -- where is the nation so erring as we, / Who claim the proud name of the "home of the free"!
What a throb do the lov'd ties of country awake / In the heart of the exile! -- for time cannot break / The sweet vision of home, and all he loved well, / Which has thrown o'er his pathway a magical spell.
Can the name of "my country" -- the deeds which we sing --
Be honored -- revered -- 'midst pollution and sin?
Can the names of our fathers who perished in fight, / Be hallowed in story, midst slavery's blight?
When America's standard is floating so fair, / I blush that the impress of falsehood is there; / That oppression and mockery dim the high fame, / That seeks from all nations a patriot's name.
Speak not of "my country," unless she shall be, / In truth, the bright home of the "brave and the free!"
Till the dark stain of slavery is washed from her hand, / A tribute of homage she cannot command.