Cora J. Ball Motes; Crisis, 1914

Dusky lashes droop and fall,
Night-winds whisper, night-birds call.
Close your tired sleepy eyes,
Earth is singing lullabies.

Kindly twilight shadows creep
O’er a world that longs to sleep.
Little dusky babe of min
Close those sleepy eyes of thine.

Mother’s love will softly keep
Watch above you while you sleep.
Cruel hate and deadly wrong
Cannot silence mother’s song.

Though against thy soft brown check
She may hide her face and weep.
Sleep, brown baby, while you may
Peacefully, at close of day.

Oh, that mother’s love could guard,
Keep thee safe ‘neath watch and want
From the cruel deadly things
That await thee while he sings.

Prejudice and cold white hate:
These, my baby, these, thy fate,
Little, gentle, trustful thing,
Thus, these sobs, the while I sing.