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 The Children of the Sun

The Children of the Sun was first published in 1918 by the Hamitic League of the World. Black Classic Press reprinted it first in 1978, and again in 1981. Our press was founded with the intention of bringing to light obscure and significant works by and about people of African descent.In the morning of the world, when the fingers of Love swept aside the curtains of Time, our dusky mother, Ethiopia, held the stage. It was she who wooed civilization and gave birth to nations. Egypt was her first-born and to UR of the Chaldees she sent her sons and daughters, who scattered empires in Asia as the wanton winds of autumn scatter the seeds of flowers.

Beside the beautiful Mediterranean she builded Phoenicia, and in ships with purple sails she sent her children to the blue Aegean, there to found Greece, the marvel of men  and the queen of history. Troy was hers, and from that burning city fled swarthy Aeneas, who set the ferment for Rome, the Eternal City. Her spirit called to Arabia and out of the mystic deserts surged the black soldiers of Islam, who welded the world into a new empire and sang their songs of love and victory in the vales of Andalusia.
On the isles of all the oceans, and from where the Southern Cross bends low to kiss the restless waves to where the Artic hold in leash its frozen world, her hand has touched. Religion, art, literature, science and civilizations are hers, and eternity but lives in the warmth of her radiant glow. I have chosen to call the unnumbered millions of her descendants the Children of the Sun. 


The Sphinx is Africa. The bond of silence


And e is upon her.
white with tombs, and rent and shorn;
With raiment wet with tears and torn,
And trampled on, yet all untamed;
All naked now, yet not ashamed,- 

The mistress of the young world's prime,

Whose obelisk's still laugh at Time,
And lift to heaven her fair name,
Sleeps satisfied upon her fame.

Who shall say;
My father reared a pyramid;
My brother clipped the dragon's wings;

My mother was Semirimis?
Yea, harps strike idly out of place;
Men sing of savage Saxon Kings
New-born and known but yesterday. 

"The Ship in the Desert," Joaquin Miller.

Reference: George Wells Parker

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