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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420418" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Sabbath Scene</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">SCARCE had the solemn Sabbath-bell<br>Ceased quivering in the steeple,<br>Scarce had the parson to his desk<br>Walked stately through his people,<br>When down the summer-shaded street<br>A wasted female figure,<br>With dusky brow and naked feet,<br>Came rushing wild and eager.<br>She saw the white spire through the trees,<br>She heard the sweet hymn swelling:<br>O pitying Christ! a refuge give<br>The poor one in Thy dwelling!<br>Like a scared fawn before the hounds,<br>Right up the aisle she glided,<br>While close behind her, whip in hand,<br>A lank-haired hunter strided.<br>She raised a keen and bitter cry,<br>To Heaven. and Earth appealing;<br>Were manhood's generous pulses dead?<br>Had woman's heart no feeling?<br>A score of stout hands rose between<br>The hunter and the flying:<br>Age clenched his staff, and maiden eyes<br>Flashed tearful, yet defying.<br>'Who dares profane this house and day?'<br>Cried out the angry pastor.<br>'Why, bless your soul, the wench's a slave,<br>And I'm her lord and master!<br>'I've law and gospel on my side,<br>And who shall dare refuse me?'<br>Down came the parson, bowing low,<br>'My good sir, pray excuse me!<br>'Of course I know your right divine<br>To own and work and whip her;<br>Quick, deacon, throw that Polyglott<br>Before the wench, and trip her!'<br>Plump dropped the holy tome, and o'er<br>Its sacred pages stumbling,<br>Bound hand and foot, a slave once more,<br>The hapless wretch lay trembling.<br>I saw the parson tie the knots,<br>The while his flock addressing,<br>The Scriptural claims of slavery<br>With text on text impressing.<br>'Although,' said he, 'on Sabbath day<br>All secular occupations<br>Are deadly sins, we must fulfil<br>Our moral obligations:<br>'And this commends itself as one<br>To every conscience tender;<br>As Paul sent back Onesimus,<br>My Christian friends, we send her!'<br>Shriek rose on shriek, — the Sabbath air<br>Her wild cries tore asunder;<br>I listened, with hushed breath, to hear<br>God answering with his thunder!<br>All still! the very altar's cloth<br>Had smothered down her shrieking,<br>And, dumb, she turned from face to face,<br>For human pity seeking!<br>I saw her dragged along the aisle,<br>Her shackles harshly clanking;<br>I heard the parson, over all,<br>The Lord devoutly thanking!<br>My brain took fire: 'Is this,' I cried,<br>'The end of prayer and preaching?<br>Then down with pulpit, down with priest,<br>And give us Nature's teaching!<br>'Foul shame and scorn be on ye all<br>Who turn the good to evil,<br>And steal the Bible from the Lord,<br>To give it to the Devil!<br>'Than garbled text or parchment law<br>I own a statute higher;<br>And God is true, though every book<br>And every man's a liar!'<br>Just then I felt the deacon's hand<br>In wrath my coat-tail seize on;<br>I heard the priest cry, 'Infidel!'<br>The lawyer mutter, 'Treason!'<br>I started up, — where now were church,<br>Slave, master, priest, and people?<br>I only heard the supper-bell,<br>Instead of clanging steeple.<br>But, on the open window's sill,<br>O'er which the white blooms drifted,<br>The pages of a good old Book<br>The wind of summer lifted,<br>And flower and vine, like angel wings<br>Around the Holy Mother,<br>Waved softly there, as if God's truth<br>And Mercy kissed each other.<br>And freely from the cherry-bough<br>Above the casement swinging,<br>With golden bosom to the sun,<br>The oriole was singing.<br>As bird and flower made plain of old<br>The lesson of the Teacher,<br>So now I heard the written Word<br>Interpreted by Nature!<br>For to my ear methought the breeze<br>Bore Freedom's blessed word on;<br>Thus saith the Lord: Break every yoke,<br>Undo the heavy burden!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><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=420418" data-title="A Sabbath Scene de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="SCARCE had the solemn Sabbath-bell
Ceased quivering in the steeple,
Scarce had the parson to his desk
Walked stately through his people,
When down the summer-shaded street
A wasted female figure,
With dusky brow and naked feet,
Came rushing wild a..."></div>
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