Blow the trumpet,
cry, gather yourselves and go,
gather yourselves in troops
against those who besiege you.

The brown beast shall perish,
the cities of his pestilence crumble,
you shall rise in the dust of their cities
as a people of grass,
as roots out of dry ground.

Awake and sing, you that dwell in the dust,
take root in the earth,
O people of grass,
and rise again.
Awake and sing,
prepare the way of the people,
lift up a standard for the people.

Set up your banners,
o people of grass,
wave them in the fields,
gather in the hills,
roll in the valleys,
from the crevices of earth
go forward,
march.


Today's poem of the day was written around the time of the Great Depression by little-known poet Sol Funaroff. Funaroff was known for his uplifting, rallying poetry, despite the hardships and illness he faced in his own life. He died at age 31, after struggling with what doctors called "rheumatic heart" or "poverty heart" for the vast majority of his life.
In addition to his own writing, Funaroff also edited and compiled the poems of others for various journals and reviews, including works by Langston Hughes, W.H. Auden and Ralph Ellison.

Source.