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This poem is in the public domain.
It was my sad and weary lot
To toil in slavery;
But one thing cheered my lowly cot—
My husband was with me.
One evening, as our children played
Around our cabin door,
I noticed on his brow a shade
I’d never seen before;
Nay, do not blush! I only heard
You had a mind to marry;
I thought I’d speak a friendly word,
So just one moment tarry.
Wed not a man whose merit lies
In things of outward show,
In raven hair or flashing eyes,
That please your fancy so.
“He knoweth not that the dead are there.”
In yonder halls reclining
Are forms surpassing fair,
And brilliant lights are shining,
But, oh! the dead are there!