The Slave's Complaint

George Moses Horton
Am I sadly cast aside,
On misfortune's rugged tide?
Will the world my pains deride
               Forever?
			   
Must I dwell in Slavery's night,
And all pleasure take its flight,
Far beyond my feeble sight,
               Forever?
			   
Worst of all, must hope grow dim,
And withhold her cheering beam?
Rather let me sleep and dream
               Forever!

Something still my heart surveys,
Groping through this dreary maze;
Is it Hope?--they burn and blaze
               Forever!
			   
Leave me not a wretch confined,
Altogether lame and blind--
Unto gross despair consigned,
               Forever!
			   
Heaven! in whom can I confide?
Canst thou not for all provide?
Condescend to be my guide
               Forever:
			   
And when this transient life shall end,
Oh, may some kind, eternal friend
Bid me from servitude ascend,
               Forever! 

This poem is in the public domain.

George Moses Horton

by this poet

poem
Esteville begins to burn;
The auburn fields of harvest rise;
The torrid flames again return,
And thunders roll along the skies.

Perspiring Cancer lifts his head,
And roars terrific from on high;
Whose voice the timid creatures dread;
From which they strive with awe to fly.

The night-hawk ventures from his cell
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DEAR MISS: Notwithstanding the cloud of doubts which overshadows the mind of adoring fancy, when I trace that vermillion cheek, that sapphire eye of expressive softness, and that symmetrical form of grace, I am constrained to sink into a flood of admiration beneath those heavenly charms. Though, dear Miss, it may

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I lov'd thee from the earliest dawn, 
   When first I saw thy beauty's ray, 
And will, until life's eve comes on, 
   And beauty's blossom fades away; 
And when all things go well with thee, 
With smiles and tears remember me. 
  
I'll love thee when thy morn is past, 
   And wheedling gallantry is o'er, 
When