Classic Poem

They knew, those gone, bent backs, the lash's out
On crimsoning and shudd'ring flesh and thirst
And hunger and all weariness, yet durst
Nor pause, nor rest; but toil and toil till shut
Of day sent them to fall in noisome hut
Herded e'en in sleep Tortured, accursed,
These knew this life as death and death at worst
A peace when earth above their bones was put

But we, their children, bone of them and blood
Bound by new fetters, tortured still, have seen
A light: We know that soul and mind are free
That sorrow, tears and evil all are good;
We know it matters not what we have been
But this, and always this: What we shall be.