<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117606" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Slave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a glorious sunset hour:—a scent<br>Of rich perfume, from many a twisted wreath<br>Of summer blossoms, clustering in their wild<br>And free profusion, ‘neath a southern sky,<br>Came on the evening breeze, and streams went by<br>With a glad tone, and the hush'd birds came forth<br>From the thick woods, and lifted up the voice<br>Of their hearts’ mirthful music. Painted wings<br>Were fluttering on the breeze, and the bees’ hum<br>Made a glad melody.—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At a hill's foot,<br>Beside a gushing stream, and ‘neath a clump<br>Of close embowering trees, there stood a cot,<br>At whose low door a mother sung to rest,<br>With a sad lullaby, her infant boy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These southern climes are bright, are bright,<br>With their gorgeous summer flowers!<br>But I would my head might rest to-night<br>In my own loved native bowers:<br>They say this land is proudly blest<br>All other lands above,<br>But afar from here is the spot, that best<br>In the wide, wide world I love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It may want the perfumed airs of this,<br>It may want the glorious clime—<br>But there is the thought of all the bliss<br>Of my happy childhood's time.<br>Better to roam ‘neath burning skies,<br>Upon wastes of desert sand,<br>Than to load the air with slavery's sighs,<br>And to wear on your heart its brand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rest, love, and sleep—for thine infant years<br>Are a dream that knows no sorrow;<br>Too soon wilt thou waken to bitter tears,<br>When manhood shall come like the morrow.<br>Rest, love, rest!—for thou know'st not yet,<br>What a fearful doom is o'er thee!<br>That the name of slave on thy brow is set,<br>And a life of woe before thee.</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=117606" data-title="The Slave de Elizabeth Margaret Chandler" data-description="It was a glorious sunset hour:—a scent/Of rich perfume, from many a twisted wreath/Of summer blossoms, clustering in their wild/And free profusion, ‘neath a southern sky,/Came on the evening breeze, and streams went by/With a glad tone, and th..."></div> </div> </div>

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