"Not to myself alone,"The little opening flower transportd cries;"Not to myself alone I bud and bloom;With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume,And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes.The bee comes sipping, every eventide,His dainty fill;The…
"Stand like an anvil!" when the strokes
Of stalwart strength fall fierce and fast;
Storms but more deeply root the oaks,
Whose brawny arms embrace the blast.
"Stand like an anvil!" when the sparks
Fly far and wide, a fiery shower;
Virtue and…
I envy not the lily's grace,
I fancy not the pale moonbeam,
Not be it mine in [?] to trade
The glory of poetic theme,
The burning glow the tropies know,
Inspires to me the midnight dream.
I envy not the power and skill
That makes the white man…
Written to be sung at the Grand Concert at the Cooper Institute, March 31st, 1862.MUSIC AND WORDS BY ROBERT HAMILTON.Solo No. 1.—to be sung by James M'Cune Smith.If I were a speaker,
And ready with the tongue,
I'd raise my voice in every land
To…
[cut off from scans]
To quench this [?] thirst within?
Here on this cursed bed I lie,
And cannot get one drop of gin!
I ask not health, not even life—
Life! what a curse it's been to me!
I'd rather sink in deepest hell,
Than drink again its…
I little knew the worth of sight,
Before m lamp was snatched away,
Ah! had I garnered up the light,
My mind had not been dark to-day;
Had coming eve foreshadowed thought,
How precious then would morn have been;
Alas! I saw not what I…
O, ever thus throughout my way,
From dawning life till closing hour,
Must slavery cloud my fairest day,
Its hellish blackness round me lower.
The flesh and soul shall man enchain,
And shackles lock on limbs and mind,
Yet none be found to case…
Philanthropist.
Wearing pedestrian, where are you goingBundle in one hand, and bandbox in t'other?
Irish Help.
Going to seek a new place, if you plase, sir—Sad is my heart, though my feeling I smother
Philanthropist.
Yes, in your face I see…
Bland as the morning's breath of June,
The south-west breezes play,
And through it's haze the winter's noon
Seems warm as summer's day.
The snow-plumed angel of the north
Has dropped his icy spear:
Again the mossy earth looks forth,
Again the…
The world, dear John, as the folks told us,
Is a world of trouble and care;
Many a cloud of grief will enfold us,
And the sunshine of grief is but rare.
But there's something yet to be bright and blest in,
No matter how humble the lot;
The…
