Classic Poem

Oh! tell me not of fatherland
Far, far beyond the deep blue sea;
Of fruitful soil — of golden sand;
Of orange groves, and cocoa tree —
My mother breathed the inspiring air,
That sweeps along our craft-filled sea;
And here my father lisped his prayer;
This is a fatherland to me.
Oh! tell me not that God appoints,
The sable man Afric too free;
Whom he selects — whom he annoints
He'll make the path of duty see:
Oh! tell me not of power, and place,
Of wealth, of pomp, and luxury —
Of the improvement of my race,
When transplanted beyond the sea.
God ne'er but one race made to dwell,
Beneath the broad o'erarching sky;
There's but one heaven — but one hell,
And but one vast eternity;
And whereso'er he warms the soul
Into our mortal bodies, — there
Without intrusion or control,
We may abide if anywhere.