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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117574" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Twilight Thoughts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sun hath set in glory—and a fold<br>Of burnish'd purple lies upon the sky,<br>Like the rich thought of some just parted joy,<br>Yet thrilling vividly around the heart.<br>The year's first sunset;—'t is most beautiful!<br>Would it might be an augury of good<br>To the fair land it shines on. But, alas!<br>What may we hope of blessing for the head<br>Of unrepenting guilt;—or, for the hand<br>—Red with the stain of murder, full of wrong<br>And foul oppression—shamelessly stretch'd out<br>To scatter to the winds the solemn oaths<br>Of broken treaty bands. The red man looks<br>Across his fathers’ lands, and thinks how once<br>They fed the white-brow'd stranger, when he came<br>With his weak hand to their low forest hut,<br>And they could well have crush'd him. Now he seeks<br>From the poor wasted remnant of their sons,<br>To rend their last few acres,—sacred spots<br>Where the dead lie unsepulchred!—and drive<br>The newly blest ones from their scarce found joys<br>Of home and social love, to be again<br>Sad houseless wanderers!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Years go circling by<br>With all their rolling suns and changing scenes,<br>In regular progression, and the slave<br>Still bends his aching forehead to the toil<br>That brings him no reward. Another year!—<br>And still the Christian loads his brother's neck<br>With the vile weight of fetters—tasks his arm<br>And goads his sinews to their daily toil,<br>With the keen lash, or, in the market-place,<br>Bids him be number'd with the brute and sold!<br>Another year! and shall that too go by,<br>And find his wrongs uncared for? Shall he still<br>Groan ‘neath his lot till life at last goes out,<br>And win no sympathy? Oh ye who love<br>Your Maker's image, even in the slave,<br>Shake from your hearts all thoughts of selfishness,<br>And with tears, prayers, and every energy,<br>Stretch'd to its firmest purpose, in his cause,<br>Cease not to plead, to struggle, to persuade,<br>'Till ye have won him back his long lost rights,<br>Or your own hearts are slumbering in death</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>
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<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=117574" data-title="Twilight Thoughts de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="The sun hath set in glory—and a fold/Of burnish'd purple lies upon the sky,/Like the rich thought of some just parted joy,/Yet thrilling vividly around the heart./The year's first sunset;—'t is most beautiful!/Would it might be an augury of go..."></div>
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