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From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto I, II)

1851 –

1901

The drowsy dawn from many a low-built shed,
Beheld his kindred driven to their task;
Late evening saw them turn with weary tread
And painful faces back; and dost thou ask
How sang these bondmen? how their suff’rings mask?
Song is the soul of sympathy divine,
And hath an inner ray where hope may bask;
Song turns the poorest waters into wine,
Illumines exile hearts and makes their faces shine.

From Twasinta’s Seminoles; or, Rape of Florida (Nixon-Jones Printing Co., 1885) by Albery A. Whitman. This poem is in the public domain.

Albery Allson Whitman was born into slavery on May 30, 1851, on a farm near Munfordville, Kentucky, in Hart County, what Whitman called “the Green River country.” He had at least one sibling, a sister. His mother died in 1862, and his father died soon after emancipation, leaving Whitman an orphan at age twelve. He remained on the farm where he was born and continued to labor there until he moved, first to Louisville, Kentucky, then to Cincinnati. He later relocated to Troy, Ohio, where he worked and, for five months, attended grammar school.

About Albery Allson Whitman

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From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, LII)

He could not be enslaved—would not enslave
The meanest exile that his friendship sued,
Brave for himself, defending others brave,—
The matchless hero of his time he stood,
His noble heart with freedom’s love imbued,
The strong apostle of Humanity!
’Mid forests wild and habitations rude,
He made his bed of glory by the sea;
The friend of Florida and man, there let him be!

Albery Allson Whitman

1885

From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, LI)

And tho’ ’tis sad, in truth it must be said,
They died for Freedom and for slavery too!
How noble and ignoble are our dead,
How recreant to right, and yet how true!
But o’er a century’s historic view,
The valiant Seminole we proudly see;
He died for Freedom; and the trembling few
Who fled to Florida his wards to be,
He elevated into freemen’s dignity!

Albery Allson Whitman

1885

From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, XXXV)

Hark! in the troubled West what means this roar?
Like forests in a storm’s tremendous glee,
Or like the waves on dread Atlantic’s shore,
It rolls and breaks around Mickanopy!
Oh! what hath roused this angry human sea?
Why howls the waste in such unwonted throes?
What rends the bosom of tranquillity?
The loud, resistless onset of fierce foes,
Startles a peaceful land and breaks its deep repose!

Albery Allson Whitman

1885

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From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto I, II)

More by this poet

From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, LII)

From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, LI)

From “Twasinta’s Seminoles” (Canto III, XXXV)

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