I Have a Dream

I am happy to link with you today in what will go down in yore as the greatest showship for freedom in the yore of our folkdom.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose tokenish shadow we stand today, underwrote the Freedom Saying. This timely decree came as a great beacon light of hope to hundereds of thousands of black thralls who had been seared in the fires withering unrightness. It came as a happy daybreak to end the long night of their binding.

But one hundred years later, the black man still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the black man is still sadly crippled by the shackles of sunderhood and the chains of unfairness. One hundred years later, the black man lives on a lonely iland of poorness in the middle of a big sea of stuffsome growth. One hundred years later, the black man is still in the edges of American fellowship and finds himself an outcast in his own land. And so we've come here today to quicken a shameful state.

MARTIN LUTHER KING’S ‘ I HAVE A DREAM’  SPEECH  ¾  28  AUGUST 1963

I am happy to come together with you today in what will go down as the greatest gathering for freedom in our homeland‘s tale.

Five score years ago, a great American in whose betokening shadow we stand today, wrote his name on the deed giving freedom to the thrall. This weighty saw came as  beacon  to thralls in their millions hoping that, their days  spent  in searing wretchednes  had come to an end. It came as a listful dawn to end the long night of thralldom. But one hundred years on, the life of the dark-hued American is still not free. One hundred years on, freedom in the Blackman’s life is still sadly made lame by  hidden fetters  without  fair deal  and  few  rights.

One hundred years after, the dark-hued American lives wane away on a lonely island   thriveless in the midst of a wealth’s great sea. One hundred years after, the dark-hued American is still ailing in the nooks, on the corners, in the hirnes, on the edges and down the back-lanes of American fellowship, an outcast in his own land. So we have come here today to tell a stark tale of a folk in  shameful  being.

In a way we have come to our Homeland’s Headtown to call in a draught. When the builders of our great folkdom  wrote the haughty words of the Books-of-Rights and the Folkcast of Lonestance, there were underwriting a behight deed to which every American was to fall   erewardly.

The deed was a behight that all folk, yes,  black and white  would be steadfast in the yieldless rights of life,  freedom and the seeking of  eadiness

It is fair to see today that Americans have been found wanting in fairness, doing little on this behight deed in their dealings with black folks. Instead of worthiness in holding firm to this hallowed call to right a wrong, America has given its dark-hued folk a bad draught. A draught that has come back with the words ” not  enough fee.”

But we unwilling to believe that the horden of fairness is  without fee. We are unwilling to believe that there is not enough fee in the great ettleful hordern   of this land. So we have come to take in fee this draught, a draught that will give upon asking theboons of freedom and hele ;s fairness.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to bring to America’s mind again the pressing need of Now. This is not the time to take-on the gealship of cooling-off or take the calming healthdrug of lets go forward little-by-little.

Now is the time to make real the behight of folkmight.

Now it is the time to rise from the dark and lonely aparthood’s hollow into the sunlit path of folkhoard or folkstrand fair-go.

Now it is time to lift our homeland out of its folkstrandish quicksand to  a  brotherhood  steadfast  as a  rock.

Now is the time to make a fair deal a given to all God’s children.

It would be dooming for the homeland to overlook nowness’ thronging need and underguess the dark-hued folks’ steadfastness. The sweltering summer of the dark-hued folk’s lawful fainless or gladless will not go-away until there freedom and fairdeal. Nineteen sixty- three is not the end but a beginning. Those who hope that the dark-hued American needed to let- off steam and will now be fulfilled will have a stark mindful awakening if the homeland goes back to its old ways)

There will be neither frithful hushes over America until the dark-hued American is given his rights. The uprising like a windwhirl  will shake our  folkdom’s  staadles until the sun  shines fairly  and evenness for all comes forth

We can never be fulfilled as long as our bodies, heavy with the tiredness of wayfaring cannot get lodging in inns by the highways and the inns in the great towns.

We cannot be fulfilled as long as the dark-hued folks’ faring is from a smaller wretchstead  to a larger  dretchy  townships.

We can never be fulfilled as long as our bairns have taken from them their self worth and have  their selfhood reaved  by boards  that  read  “ for whites only. ”

We cannot be fulfilled as long as a dark-hued folk in Mississippi cannot folk-aye and dark-hued folks in New York believes he has nothing for which to folk-aye.

No, no we are not fulfilled and we will not be fulfilled until fairness rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here ordeal-wearied and smite-sored. Others have have come from steadss where  seeking your freedom  has left you pounded by hounding storms, and harried by the harshness’  biting winds  wrought  by those given to uphold your right to freedom.

You have been old-hands at finding understanding and enlightment in bearing the burdens of dreighdom. Go on with your work with the beliefs that unearned dreedom will make  you free.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama,  go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the wretchsteads and blackfolk townlets throughout our now great towns, knowing that somehow this wrong  can and will be made right.

Let us not wallow in the yesterday’s waned hopes. I say to you, my friends, we have the burdens in our heart and toils in our  the mind  of today and tomorrow.

I have a foresight. It is a foresight deeply and longly rooted in the American mindsight.

I have a foresight that one day this folkdom will rise up and live out the true meaning of its belief that all men are made even.

I have a foresight that one day in the red hills of Georgia that one-time thrall’s sons and  one-time thrall-owners’ sons will sit down together at the table of  brotherhood.

I have a mindsight that one day even in the shire of Mississippi, a shire or wapentake sweltering with the heat of downtrodden- ness will be shaped  otherly into an lush well, freedom and fairness-full.

I have a foresight that my four little children will one day live in a land where they will be deemed not  by theie skin’s  blee,  but  by their  deeds

I have a foresight today.

I have a foresight that one day down in Alabama, with it’s evil-willed racists, with it’s leader having his lips dripping hindering words, bitter, hateful and worth quelling ; that one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls can link hands with little white boysand little white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a foresight today.

I have a foresight that every dale shall be swallowed-up, every hill shall be lifted up and every fell shall be made low, the rough places will be made smooth, and the crooked places will be made straight and the greatness of the Lord shall be made clear and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the belief that I will go back to the South filled with. With this belief we will have the strength to hew out from  hopelessness ’ fell,  a stone of hope.

With this hope we can shape anew our dinful heart beating to our land apartness into a gladdening glee of brotherhood.

With this belief we can work together, make our beseeching to God together, to struggle together, go to gaol together, to climb up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all God’s bairns will sing with new understanding “My land ‘tis of thee, sweet land of freedom, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim‘s pride, from every fellside, let freedom ring!”

And if America is to be great land, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the hilltops in New Hampshire. Let freedom from New York‘s mighty fells.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies in Pennsylvania

Let freedom ring from the snow-topped Rockies in Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the wendsome California’s wending slopes.

But not only that, let freedom ring from Georgia’s Stony Fell.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill throughout Mississippi and along every fellside.

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every boarding-house and every hamlet, from every shire and every big town, we can speed up the day when all God’s bairns, black men and white men, Jews and Non-Jews, Romish Churchers and Non- RomishChurchers, can join hands and sing in the words of the old song of  this land;s  enthralled black folk, Free at last, free at last. “Thank God Almighty, we are free at last.’’