Their minds are weakened by the scourge,—
They cannot learn, nor work the forge.
The land where first the white man came—
Dear victims these.—Who is to blame?
Some cannot read the simplest line,
Or write their names, except by sign.
Ah! How my heart goes out to them,
This fairest race,—the mountain stem.
When money thus our nation take
And schools for negro race they make—
A plea from one, a cry grown wild,
I make for this white mountain child.
They cannot learn, nor work the forge.
The land where first the white man came—
Dear victims these.—Who is to blame?
Some cannot read the simplest line,
Or write their names, except by sign.
Ah! How my heart goes out to them,
This fairest race,—the mountain stem.
When money thus our nation take
And schools for negro race they make—
A plea from one, a cry grown wild,
I make for this white mountain child.
[6]
