Classic Poem

The world is mine, to toil in and enjoy,
Is mine to love in and to weep.
Is mine to build upon but not destroy,
Is mine to labor in and sleep.
The world is mine, my heritage it is;
It is not mine alone;
Who 's born of woman, it is also his;
His title is my own.

'Tis more my own than were it given me
To hold in undisturbed repose.
For me alone, a desert it would be;
Men make it blossom like the rose.
And whoso will not for my title fight,
Must likewise his resign;
And whoso tramples on another's right,
Abridges also mine.

We stand together; neither can escape
Our joint responsibility.
The injuries we do each other, shape
The common, racial destiny.