The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point

I.


I stand on the mark beside the shore

Of the first white pilgrim's bended knee,

Where exile turned to ancestor,

And God was thanked for liberty.

I have run through the night, my skin is as dark,

I bend my knee down on this mark . . .

I look on the sky and the sea.


II.


O pilgrim-souls, I speak to you!

I see you come out proud and slow

From the land of the spirits pale as dew. . .

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