A Bondman's Meditation

A Bondman's Meditation

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 our pain,

Nor none the fetters to unbind?

In vain must sorrow's wailing cry

Ascend and sound the blue above—

And beats no heart beyond the sky—

Unknown are justice, pity, love?

Then Death, my friend, to thee I pray;

From thee a favor I do crave—

In mercy take my breath away,

This body give the friendly grave.

The woes that here my soul do beat,

Will hurtless break against the mound

That covers o'er the lone retreat—

To tyrants' rage the grave's a bound.

Saddle River, N.J., Sept. 26, 1859.

A.P. Smith

1:13, p. 1

10.15.1859