News
‘Deal with the Devil’: Harvard Medical School Faculty Grapple with Increased Industry Research Funding
News
As Dean Long’s Departure Looms, Harvard President Garber To Appoint Interim HGSE Dean
News
Harvard Students Rally in Solidarity with Pro-Palestine MIT Encampment Amid National Campus Turmoil
News
Attorneys Present Closing Arguments in Wrongful Death Trial Against CAMHS Employee
News
Harvard President Garber Declines To Rule Out Police Response To Campus Protests
THOU look'st, with sorrowful and anxious gaze
Across the graves that hold the sacred bones
Of many fallen in the strife to raise
The curse of slavery from their land. No tones
Come from those sweet yet steadfast lips, no word
Of blame to those who erred yet are forgiven.
Though senseless stone, thou look'st as if, were heard
One whisper 'gainst the land that once was riven
By civil strife, or saw one deed of shame
That would make blush thy dead could they but live,
Thou wouldst avenge the once unspotted fame
Of that fair land whose honors men can give
And buy for gold. And yet thy lips are mute and still,
Nor gives thy form, e'en at such shame as ours, one thrill.
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.