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Spring was busy in the woodlands, Climbing up from peak to peak, As an old man sat and brooded, With a flush upon his cheek. Many years pressed hard upon him, And his living friends were few, And from out the sombre future Troubles drifted…

Why gaze ye on my hoary hair, Ye children young and gay? Your locks beneath the blast of care, Will bleach as white as they. I had a mother once, like you, Who o'er my pillow hung, Kiss'd from my cheek the briny dew, And taught my faultering…

It was a fearful night, The strong flame sped From street to street, from spire to spire, And on their treasures tread; Hark! 'Tis a mother's cry, High o'er the tumlt wild, As rushing toward her flame wrapped home She shriek'd - My child! My…

The occurrence her related took place during the great conflagration in New York, December 16, 1835. It was a fearful night, The strong flame fiercely sped From street to street, from spire to spire. And on their treasures fed; Hark! - 'tis a…

Tune—Happy-HomeSend the glad tidings o'er the sea,—His chains are broke, the Slave is free;Britannia's justice, wealth, and mightHave gained the Negro's long-lost right!His chains are broke, the Slave is free,—This is the Negro's jubilee!Hail!…

An African Prince on his arrival in England being asked what he had given for his watch, answered, "What I would never give again - I gave a fine boy." When avarice enslaves the mind, And selfish views alone bear away, Man turns a savage to his…

The queenly moon an artist seem, And paints, as if with magic touch, The midnight landscapes on the streams, And softens into angel dreams The scenes we love so much. The city, with its sparkling vanes, Like Mercy's fluttering wings, Seem hovering…

My Home's on the mountain, 'Mid fragrance and shade, Where gushes the fountain, In wild flowers arrayed; Where nature is sweetest, Unfashion'd by art, And winds wing their fleetest - A home of the heart. The bright summer's morning Breaks…

[The following sweet poem was read by the authoress at the re-opening of Colored Grammar School No. 1, March 12, 1860.—ED. ANGLO-AFRICAN]Take the footstool, little creature— Place it very gently down; Smooth the wrinkles very neatly From the…

The spring of feeling gushes there, In mystic light from virtue's rays, Is like the pure undying air That o'er the fact of nature plays; No selfish view, or sordid tie, Around the MOTHER'S heart will cling, Nor in the hidden bed will lie A…