Rochester Discourse - Federick Douglas

Wind, word, sail The helm is turned On the oar of the tongue Against the tide of laws The righteous cause Will its litany and prevail O could the dock Materialize again Out of the euphoria of the brain O could not relay of metered sound Measure out spoon by empty spoon The empty wait And the immediacy of the state You were a tower Better than Babel or rainless flower You were answerer and caller With exact mimetic Of the horrific hour That children go round and round Sunless in the shadow I never let the moon get into my blood The universe is just a batch of mud.