Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

(24 September 1825 – 22 February 1911 / Baltimore, Maryland)

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper Poems

1. The Slave Auction 8/11/2015
2. To Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe 8/13/2015
3. Wanderer's Return 1/3/2003
4. The Soul's Destiny 4/17/2010
5. The Present Age 4/17/2010
6. My Heart 4/17/2010
7. Our Helen 4/17/2010
8. Eliza Harris 3/27/2012
9. N. P. Rogers 4/17/2010
10. Maceo 1/3/2003
11. Out In The Cold 1/3/2003
12. Lines To A Friend, 4/17/2010
13. The Sparrow's Fall 1/3/2003
14. Nothing And Something 1/3/2003
15. Jamie's Puzzle 1/3/2003
16. To The Union Savers Of Cleveland 1/3/2003
17. The Pure In Heart Shall See God 1/3/2003
18. Come To Me When I'M Dying 4/17/2010
19. The Lost Bells 1/3/2003
20. Our Hero 4/17/2010
21. Truth 1/3/2003
22. New England Sabbath Bells 4/17/2010
23. The Reunion 4/17/2010
24. The Martyr Of Alabama 1/3/2003
25. Lines 4/17/2010
26. Ho For California! 4/17/2010
27. Vashti 1/3/2003
28. Renewal Of Strength 1/3/2003
29. Save The Boys 1/3/2003
30. The Refiner's Gold 1/3/2003
31. Lines To A Married Friend 4/17/2010
32. Going East 1/3/2003
33. My Mother's Kiss 4/17/2010
34. My Bonnet Of Blue 4/17/2010
35. Bible Defense Of Slavery 3/27/2012
36. He Had Not Where To Lay His Head 1/3/2003
37. The Burdens Of All 1/3/2003
38. Signing The Pledge 1/3/2003
39. Dedication Poem 4/17/2010
40. The Deliverance 4/17/2010
Best Poem of Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Bury Me In A Free Land

Make me a grave where'er you will,
In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;
Make it among earth's humblest graves,
But not in a land where men are slaves.

I could not rest if around my grave
I heard the steps of a trembling slave;
His shadow above my silent tomb
Would make it a place of fearful gloom.

I could not rest if I heard the tread
Of a coffle gang to the shambles led,
And the mother's shriek of wild despair
Rise like a curse on the trembling air.

I could not sleep if I saw the lash
Drinking her blood at each fearful gash,
And I saw her ...

Read the full of Bury Me In A Free Land

Bury Me In A Free Land

Make me a grave where'er you will,
In a lowly plain, or a lofty hill;
Make it among earth's humblest graves,
But not in a land where men are slaves.

I could not rest if around my grave
I heard the steps of a trembling slave;
His shadow above my silent tomb
Would make it a place of fearful gloom.

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