Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

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

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper Poems

1. To Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe 8/13/2015
2. The Slave Auction 8/11/2015
3. Wanderer's Return 1/3/2003
4. The Soul's Destiny 4/17/2010
5. The Present Age 4/17/2010
6. Save The Boys 1/3/2003
7. My Heart 4/17/2010
8. Our Helen 4/17/2010
9. Eliza Harris 3/27/2012
10. N. P. Rogers 4/17/2010
11. Maceo 1/3/2003
12. Out In The Cold 1/3/2003
13. Lines To A Friend, 4/17/2010
14. The Sparrow's Fall 1/3/2003
15. Nothing And Something 1/3/2003
16. Jamie's Puzzle 1/3/2003
17. To The Union Savers Of Cleveland 1/3/2003
18. The Lost Bells 1/3/2003
19. The Pure In Heart Shall See God 1/3/2003
20. Our Hero 4/17/2010
21. New England Sabbath Bells 4/17/2010
22. The Reunion 4/17/2010
23. The Martyr Of Alabama 1/3/2003
24. Lines 4/17/2010
25. Ho For California! 4/17/2010
26. Renewal Of Strength 1/3/2003
27. The Refiner's Gold 1/3/2003
28. Lines To A Married Friend 4/17/2010
29. My Mother's Kiss 4/17/2010
30. My Bonnet Of Blue 4/17/2010
31. Signing The Pledge 1/3/2003
32. Do Not Cheer, Men Are Dying, Said Capt. Phillips 1/3/2003
33. The Burdens Of All 1/3/2003
34. Dedication Poem 4/17/2010
35. Truth 1/3/2003
36. The Hermit's Sacrifice 1/3/2003
37. Then And Now 1/3/2003
38. Vashti 1/3/2003
39. Songs For The People 1/3/2003
40. A Story Of The Rebellion 4/17/2010

Comments about Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

  • angel anderson (3/13/2018 12:50:00 PM)

    awsome even though i haven't read it yet.\

    0 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
Best Poem of Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The Slave Mother

Heard you that shriek? It rose
So wildly on the air,
It seemed as if a burden'd heart
Was breaking in despair.

Saw you those hands so sadly clasped --
The bowed and feeble hand --
The shuddering of that fragile form --
That look of grief and dread?

Saw you the sad, imploring eye?
Its every glance was pain,
As if a storm of agony
Were sweeping through the brain.

She is a mother, pale with fear,
Her boy clings to her side,
And in her kirtle vainly tries
His trembling form to hide.

He is not hers, although she bore ...

Read the full of The Slave Mother

Going East

She came from the East a fair, young bride,
With a light and a bounding heart,
To find in the distant West a home
With her husband to make a start.

He builded his cabin far away,
Where the prairie flower bloomed wild;
Her love made lighter all his toil,
And joy and hope around him smiled.

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