The Fugitive-Slave Law
Dublin Core
Title
The Fugitive-Slave Law
Description
Restore the Fugitive! Ay, when
The Son of Gods descends again
Restore the Fugitive! I will
When God's own voice in man is still,
Restore the Fugitive! No, ne'er
While I've a home, a shelter, where
Restore the Fugitive! The law
Is like the cords that Samson wore,
The Son of Gods descends again
And bids me never more to do
As I would fain be done unto.
Restore the Fugitive! I will
When God's own voice in man is still,
And wrong is right by God's decree,
And light and air no longer free.
Restore the Fugitive! No, ne'er
While I've a home, a shelter, where
The persecuted one may bide,
Castle or grave, and side by side.
Restore the Fugitive! The law
Is like the cords that Samson wore,
And mature, were each thread a chain,
Would snap a thousand such in twain.
Independent
Creator
William B. Fowle
Source
1:13, p. 1
Date
10.26.1861
Contributor
Independent
Collection
Citation
William B. Fowle, “The Fugitive-Slave Law,” Periodical Poets, accessed September 8, 2024, https://periodicalpoets.com/items/show/736.
Comments