Abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia, 1862
WHEN first I saw our banner waveAbove the nation's council-hall,I heard beneath its marble wallThe clanking fetters of the slave!
In the foul market-place I stood,And saw the Christian mother sold,And childhood with its locks of gold,Blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood.
I shut my eyes, I held my breath,And, smothering down the wrath and shameThat set my Northern blood aflame,Stood silent,--where to speak was death.
Beside me gloomed the prison-cellWhere wasted one in slow declineFor uttering simple words of mine,And loving freedom all too well.
The flag that floated from the domeFlapped menace in the morning air;I stood a perilled stranger whereThe human broker made his home.
For crime was virtue: Gown and SwordAnd Law their threefold sanction gave,And to the quarry of the slaveWent hawking with our symbol-bird.
On the oppressor's side was power;And yet I knew that every wrong,However old, however strong,But waited God's avenging hour.
I knew that truth would crush the lie,Somehow, some time, the end would be;Yet scarcely dared I hope to seeThe triumph with my mortal eye.
But now I see it! In the sunA free flag floats from yonder dome,And at the nation's hearth and homeThe justice long delayed is done.
Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer,The message of deliverance comes,But heralded by roll of drumsOn waves of battle-troubled air!
Midst sounds that madden and appall,The song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew!The harp of David melting throughThe demon-agonies of Saul!
Not as we hoped; but what are we?Above our broken dreams and plansGod lays, with wiser hand than man's,The corner-stones of liberty.
I cavil not with Him: the voiceThat freedom's blessed gospel tellsIs sweet to me as silver bells,Rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice!
Dear friends still toiling in the sun;Ye dearer ones who, gone before,Are watching from the eternal shoreThe slow work by your hands begun,
Rejoice with me! The chastening rodBlossoms with love; the furnace heatGrows cool beneath His blessed feetWhose form is as the Son of God!
Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springsAre sweetened; on our ground of griefRise day by day in strong reliefThe prophecies of better things.
Rejoice in hope! The day and nightAre one with God, and one with themWho see by faith the cloudy hemOf Judgment fringed with Mercy's light.
Words in this poem
- childhood n.
- The state of being a child; the time in which persons are children; the condition or time from infancy to puberty. [AS. cildhad; cild child + -had. See Child, and hood.]
- aflame adv.
- Inflames; glowing with light or passion; ablaze. G. Eliot. [Pref. a- + flame.]
- went n.
- Course; way; path; journey; direction.
- somehow adv.
- In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
- yonder adv.
- At a distance, but within view. [OE. yonder, ýonder; cf. OD. ginder, Goth. jaindr there. Yond, adv.]
- madden v. t.
- To make mad; to drive to madness; to craze; to excite violently with passion; to make very angry; to enrage.
- appall v. t.
- To make pale; to blanch. [OF. appalir to grow pale, make pale; a (L. ad) + pâlir to grow pale, to make pale, pâle pale. See Pale, a., and cf. Pall.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia, 1862 is in the public domain. This text is taken from Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform, Complete Volume III of The Works of John Greenleaf Whittier, Project Gutenberg ebook #9580; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: John Greenleaf Whittier, Abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia, 1862, in Anti-Slavery Poems and Songs of Labor and Reform (1865), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #9580, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/whittier-anti-slavery/abolition-of-slavery-in-the-district-of-columbia-1862.html, id L24917.
Form and metre
Abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia, 1862 is 68 lines in 17 stanzas of 4 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABBA, complete in 15 of its 17 stanzas. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 92%).
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBA waveA · hallB · wallB · slaveA
- 2 ABBA stoodA · soldB · goldB · bloodA
- 3 ABBA breathA · shameB · aflameB · deathA
- 4 ABBA cellA · declineB · mineB · wellA
- 5 ABBA domeA · airB · whereB · homeA
- 6 -AA- sword · gaveA · slaveA · bird
- 7 ABBA powerA · wrongB · strongB · hourA
- 8 ABBA lieA · beB · seeB · eyeA
- 9 ABBA sunA · domeB · homeB · doneA
- 10 ABBA prayerA · comesB · drumsB · airA
- 11 ABBA appallA · knewB · throughB · saulA
- 12 -AA- we · plansA · man'sA · liberty
- 13 ABBA voiceA · tellsB · bellsB · rejoiceA
- 14 ABBA sunA · beforeB · shoreB · begunA
- 15 ABBA rodA · heatB · feetB · godA
- 16 ABBA springsA · griefB · reliefB · thingsA
- 17 ABBA nightA · themB · hemB · lightA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| WHEN first I saw our banner wave | 8 | ····//˘· |
| Above the nation's council-hall, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| I heard beneath its marble wall | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The clanking fetters of the slave! | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| In the foul market-place I stood, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And saw the Christian mother sold, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And childhood with its locks of gold, | 8 | ·/······ |
| Blue-eyed and fair with Saxon blood. | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| I shut my eyes, I held my breath, | 8 | ········ |
| And, smothering down the wrath and shame | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That set my Northern blood aflame, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Stood silent,--where to speak was death. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Beside me gloomed the prison-cell | 8 | ˘/···/˘· |
| Where wasted one in slow decline | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| For uttering simple words of mine, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And loving freedom all too well. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| The flag that floated from the dome | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Flapped menace in the morning air; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| I stood a perilled stranger where | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| The human broker made his home. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| For crime was virtue: Gown and Sword | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And Law their threefold sanction gave, | 8 | ···/·/˘· |
| And to the quarry of the slave | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Went hawking with our symbol-bird. | 8 | ·/˘·//˘· |
| On the oppressor's side was power; | 9 | ··˘/˘··/˘ |
| And yet I knew that every wrong, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| However old, however strong, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| But waited God's avenging hour. | 9 | ·/˘·˘/˘/˘ |
| I knew that truth would crush the lie, | 8 | ········ |
| Somehow, some time, the end would be; | 8 | /······· |
| Yet scarcely dared I hope to see | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The triumph with my mortal eye. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| But now I see it! In the sun | 8 | ········ |
| A free flag floats from yonder dome, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| And at the nation's hearth and home | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The justice long delayed is done. | 8 | ·/˘·˘/·· |
| Not as we hoped, in calm of prayer, | 8 | ········ |
| The message of deliverance comes, | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| But heralded by roll of drums | 8 | ·/˘˘···· |
| On waves of battle-troubled air! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Midst sounds that madden and appall, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| The song that Bethlehem's shepherds knew! | 9 | ···/˘·/˘· |
| The harp of David melting through | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| The demon-agonies of Saul! | 8 | ·/˘/˘˘·· |
| Not as we hoped; but what are we? | 8 | ········ |
| Above our broken dreams and plans | 8 | ··//˘··· |
| God lays, with wiser hand than man's, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The corner-stones of liberty. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘˘ |
| I cavil not with Him: the voice | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| That freedom's blessed gospel tells | 8 | ·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Is sweet to me as silver bells, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Rejoicing! yea, I will rejoice! | 8 | ˘/˘···˘/ |
| Dear friends still toiling in the sun; | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Ye dearer ones who, gone before, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Are watching from the eternal shore | 9 | ·/˘··˘/˘· |
| The slow work by your hands begun, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Rejoice with me! The chastening rod | 8 | ˘/···/˘· |
| Blossoms with love; the furnace heat | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| Grows cool beneath His blessed feet | 8 | ······˘· |
| Whose form is as the Son of God! | 8 | ········ |
| Rejoice! Our Marah's bitter springs | 8 | ˘//··/˘· |
| Are sweetened; on our ground of grief | 8 | ·/˘·/··· |
| Rise day by day in strong relief | 8 | ······˘/ |
| The prophecies of better things. | 8 | ·/˘˘·/˘· |
| Rejoice in hope! The day and night | 8 | ˘/······ |
| Are one with God, and one with them | 8 | ········ |
| Who see by faith the cloudy hem | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Of Judgment fringed with Mercy's light. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.