George Moses Horton Poems

When auburn Autumn mounts the stage,
And Summer fails her charms to yield,
Bleak nature turns another page,
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Hail, thou auspicious vernal dawn!
Ye birds, proclaim the winter's gone,
Ye warbling minstrels sing;
Pour forth your tribute as ye rise,
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Am I sadly cast aside,
On misfortune's rugged tide?
Will the world my pains deride
Forever?
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I was a harness horse,
Constrained to travel weak or strong,
With orders from oppressing force,
Push along, push along.
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Alas! and am I born for this,
To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
Through hardship, toil and pain!
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Blown up with painful care and hard to light,
A glimmering torch blown in a moment out,
Suspended by a web, an angler's bait,
Floating at stake along the stream of chance,
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Sweet memory, like a pleasing dream,
Still lends a dull and feeble ray;
For ages with her vestige teems,
When beauty's trace is worn away.
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Esteville fire begins to burn;
The auburn fields of harvest rise;
The torrid flames again return,
And thunders roll along the skies.
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Whilst tracing thy visage I sink in emotion,
For no other damsel so wond'rous I see;
Thy looks are so pleasing, thy charms so amazing,
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It well bespeaks a man beheaded, quite
Divested of the laurel robe of life,
When every member struggles for its base,
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