Classic Poem

Hark to wails of distress and of sadness,
That soar on the blood-weighted air;
Hear the arrogant Spaniard in madness
Blend his laugh with thy suffering prayer.
Hear his insolent anthems of gladness,
Mock thine agonized rending of hair.

Thou hast fought, and hast hoped, and hast waited,
Oh Cuba, and still thou art strong,
Thou hast curbed 'neath the wrath unabated,
Of tyrants who scoff at thy wrong.
Thou hast suffered their frenzies unsated,
Thou hast bowed by their scourge and their thong.

We are wearied of crime and of blunder,
We are wearied of darkness and gloom;
We are worn of this rapine and plunder,
And the Spaniard's insatiable tomb;
While our ears are made deaf by their thunder,
Of cannon that crash and that boom.

Through the wail and the wind of thy slaughters,
Through the rise and the flow of thy tears;
Thou implorest our aid o'er the waters,
And thou beg'st us to solace thy fears.
Thou bewailest thy lost sons and daughters,
And thy green fields untilled thro' the years.

Thou hast given thy charm and thy beauty,
Thou hast given thy body as dower;
Thou hast languished core-stricken in duty
To a rotten and dissolute power;
Thou hast swooned in their clutch, and their booty
Though helpless they strive to deflower.

The red banner of Spain is now flying,
Her legions are thirsting for lives;
We still hear the wan patriots crying
To martyrs who groan in their gyves,
We are deafened by shrieks from the dying,
We are blind by the glitter of knives.

But enough of such tears and lamenting,
For the hour sounds to stifle all sighs;
To o'erwhelm thy proud foes unrelenting,
To combat, to revolt, to despise;
Thou hast lingered enough in repenting,
'Tis the time to awake, to arise.

Ah, 'tis many a year we have missed thee
Fair Cuba and seen thee downtrod;
We have stopped not to comfort, nor kisst thee,
We have spurned thy long suffering sod;
But we come now to aid and assist thee,
Aye for Liberty, Honor and God.

To thy land of despair and commotion,
To thy homes in distress and alarm,
We will hasten with ardent emotion,
We will save thee from shame and from harm,
O'er the mighty expanses of Ocean,
We will stretch our omnipotent arm.

They have trod on thee Cuba, and spattered
Thy garments with mire and with gore;
They have driven thee ragged and tattered
To bend down thy proud brow and implore;
Yet they fail, for tho' stricken and shattered,
Thou shalt live and shalt prosper once more.

Hear the rage of the mass and the million,
As we chafe and we wait in discords;
Every heart beats to meet the Castillian,
With the cannon and clashing of swords;
We are fain to unfurl our pavilion,
O'er the carrion of braggarts and lords.

We are tired of the Spaniard's hot curses,
We are tired of their murderous threats;
Their old roster of insults still nurses
Great fevers of hates and regrets;
Let us pay them with shrouds and with hearses,
Let the red blood then cancel our debts.

Thro' our cannon smoke shall ye the splendid,
Bright white of our standard acclaim,
And the blue of that flag will be blended
With thy heavens oh Cuba, the same,
While the wrath of its crimson descended,
Shall gleam through the blood and the flame.

But enough of such talk and presuming,
'Tis no time to delay or inquire;
'Tis the hour the dark garb for assuming
Of a vengeance whose blows will prove dire;
We must answer thee Spain with the booming
Of cannon and flashing of fire.

So succumb not to tears and despairing,
Oh Cuba, down-trampled, defied;
We will choke the wild beasts that are tearing,
The flesh from thy blood-streaming side;
Swoon not yet for our armies are bearing,
That help which for years we denied.

To thy island then, sun-blesst and florid,
To thy homes on the murmuring sea,
We will drag our war chariots horrid,
Thro' thy legions of foemen that flee;
We will dry the deep wounds on thy forehead
And proclaim thee Great. Honored and Free.