Paul Laurence Dunbar,
The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar…
(1913)
“ Swinging his scythe like a mower Over a field of grain, Needless the care of the gleaners, Where he had passed amain. Straight through the human harvest, Cutting a bloody swath, Woe to you, soldier of Briton! Death is abroad in his path. Flee from the scythe of the reaper, Flee while the moment is thine, None may with safety withstand him, Black Samson of Brandywine. ”
