<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117387" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To Those I Love</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, turn ye not displeased away, though I should sometimes seem<br>Too much to press upon your ear, an oft-repeated theme;<br>The story of the negro's wrongs is heavy at my heart,<br>And can I choose but wish from you a sympathizing part?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I turn to you to share my joy,—to soothe me in my grief—<br>In wayward sadness from your smiles, I seek a sweet relief:<br>And shall I keep this burning wish to see the slave set free,<br>Lock'd darkly in my secret heart, unshared and silently?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cannot know that all the chords, which give their magic tone<br>Like Memnon's harp, in music out, ‘neath sunshine smiles alone,<br>Are torn by savage hands away from woman's bleeding breast,<br>And with their sweetness on my soul, my feelings keep repress'd!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I had been a friendless thing—if I had never known,<br>How swell the fountains of the heart beneath affection's tone,<br>I might have, careless, seen the leaf torn rudely from its stem,<br>But clinging as I do to you, can I but feel for them?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I could not brook to list the sad sweet music of a bird,<br>Though it were sweeter melody than ever ear hath heard,<br>If cruel hands had quench'd its light, that in the plaintive song,<br>It might the breathing memory of other days prolong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And can I give my lip to taste the life-bought luxuries, wrung<br>From those on whom a darker night of anguish has been flung—<br>Or silently and selfishly enjoy my better lot,<br>While those whom God hath bade me love, are wretched and forgot?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh no!—so blame me not, sweet friends, though I should sometimes seem<br>Too much to press upon your ear an oft-repeated theme;<br>The story of the negro's wrongs hath won me from my rest,—<br>And I must strive to wake for him an interest in your breast!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Elizabeth+Margaret+Chandler">Elizabeth Margaret Chandler</a> from <i>Poetical Works</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117387" data-title="To Those I Love de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="Oh, turn ye not displeased away, though I should sometimes seem/Too much to press upon your ear, an oft-repeated theme;/The story of the negro's wrongs is heavy at my heart,/And can I choose but wish from you a sympathizing part?/I turn to you to ..."></div> </div> </div>

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