“I'll tell you how the leaves came down,”
The great tree to his children said,
“You're getting sleepy, Yellow and Brown,
Yes, very sleepy, little Red. ...
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white.
White as an angel is the English child:
But I am black as if bereav'd of light.
My mother taught me underneath a tree
And sitting down before the heat of day.
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
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