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poet

George Moses Horton

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poem
Alas! and am I born for this,
   To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
   Through hardship, toil, and pain!
   
How long have I in bondage lain,
   And languished to be free!
Alas! and must I still complain--
   Deprived of liberty.

Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief
   This side the silent
poem
Am I sadly cast aside,
On misfortune's rugged tide?
Will the world my pains deride
               Forever?
			   
Must I dwell in Slavery's night,
And all pleasure take its flight,
Far beyond my feeble sight,
               Forever?
			   
Worst of all, must hope grow dim,
And withhold her cheering beam?
Rather
poem

DEAR MISS: Notwithstanding the cloud of doubts which overshadows the mind of adoring fancy, when I trace that vermillion cheek, that sapphire eye of expressive softness, and that symmetrical form of grace, I am constrained to sink into a flood of admiration beneath those heavenly charms. Though, dear Miss, it may