Classic Poem

Are black and white of kith and kin?
The same or the reverse, sir?
In heel and shin and wool and skin
A unit, or diverse, sir?

And what's a hybrid, if I may
Request an explanation?
About the poorest thing to pay
That's known to speculation;

The lowest speed, the loudest bray,
That ever shocked creation,
A yaller dog that has his day
But not his generation.

Until the smiling heavens make
Five senses all to blunder,
It were as well for conscience' sake
To keep the breeds asunder.

And lest philanthropy should swim
Through blood for " Cuffee's " fetter,
We'll do the best we can for him
Until we can do better.