Poetry: The Farewell Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daug...

Gonï, gone - sold and gone, To the r.ce-svfamp dank and lone, Whcre the slave-whip censeless swings, Where the noisome insect siings, Whero the Fever Demon strews Poison with the falling dews, Where tho sickly sunbeatns glare Through the hot and misty air, - Gone, gone - sold ar.d gone, To the rice-swanip dank and lone, From Virginia'8 hills and waters - Woe is rae, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. There no molher's eye is ncar them, Thcre no mother's ear can hcar them; Never, where the torïuring lash Seams their back with many a gash, Shall a mother's kindncss bless them, Or a motber's arms carees them. Gone, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia'shillsand waters, - Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Oh, when wcary, sad, and slow, From tho fiel dn at night thoy go, Faint with toil, and rack'd with pain, To their cheerless homes again - There no brother's voice shall greet them - There no father's welcome meet them. Gone. gone - eold nnd gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters, - Woei me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone - sold and gone. To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From the tree whose shadow lay On their childhood's place of play - From the cool spring where they drankRock, and hill, and rivulet bank - From the eolemn house of Prayer, And the holy counsels there - Gone, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-swampdank and lone, From Virginia's hills and waters, - Woe is me, my stolen daughlers!Gone. gonc - sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone - Toiling through the weary day, And at night the Spoiler's prey. Oh, that they had earlier died, Sleeping calmly, side by side, Where the tyrnnt's power is o'er, And the fetter gallsno more! Gone, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-t.wamp dank and lono, From Virginia'8 hills and waters. - Woe is me, my stolen daughters! Gone, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-swamp donk and lone. By the holy Iove He benreth - By the bruised reed He spareth - Oh, may He, to whom alono AH their cruel wrongs are known, Still their hopDand refuge prove, "With a more than mother's Iove. Gon?, gone - sold and gone, To the rice-swamp dank and lone, From Virginin's hills and waters, - Woe is me, my stolen daughters!