Dr. John Pierpont, at the Boston Anti-Slavery Fair, in 1842, being asked for his autograph, hastily dashed off the following:Our tobacco they plant, andour cotton they pick
And our rice they can harvest and thrash;
They feed us in health and they…
Propitious be the gales that waft thee,
To southern clime, to peaceful home,
Thy smile, perhaps, may never greet me,
Or friendship tempt thee, here again to roam.
Could I but once more meet thine eye,
That ever beam'd with fond delight,
That kindly…
Peace to thee, father, thou hast gone
To that blest shore—
Thy last great battle's fought and won,
Thy conflict's o'er.
As dew drops from the flowers above
On earth distill'd,
Thy melting words, like floods of love,
Our hearts have…
When the twilight shadows deepen,
Bringing evening to its close,
Calm and peaceful are the moments,
Verging on to night's repose.
When the twilight shadows bring us
Gentle memories of the past,
Then the mist of time is lifted,
With no shadow…
Deep down in thy dark eyes
A world of longing lies
Of sweet desire,
Of hopes, of doubts, of fears,
And just a trace of tears
Quenched by the fire
Of love's perpetual glow,
Of passion's ebb and flow,
As they arise
In thy dark eyes.
In token of the love you gave,
The faith, the trust, reposed in me,
When our young hearts were glad and free,
I plant these flowers upon your grave! The world is far too poor to give
A value like it took away;
I nevermore a joyous day,
Since…
There is a time, just when the frost
Prepares to pave old Winter's way,
When Autumn, in a reverie lost,
The mellow daytime dreams away.
When Summer comes, in musing mind,
To gaze once more on hill and dell,
To mark how many sheaves they…
Drop follows drop, and swells
With rain the sweeping river;
Word follows word, and tells
A truth that lives forever.
Flake follows flake, like sprites
Whose wings the winds dissever;
Thought follows thought, and lights
The realm of mind…
There is a crime of blackest die,Which man, on brother man commits;And well this trait of infamy,His dark unfeeling breast befits.It is no foulest homicide,The felon hath a purer heart;Not sacrilege that I deride!Though this would make a demon…
ART thou a Woman? - so am I, and allThat woman can be, I have been, or am;A daughter, sister, consort, mother, widow.Which of these thou art, oh be the friendOf one is what thou canst never be!Look on thyself thy kindred, home, and cry, "Thank God,An…
