Sarah Louisa Forten

Sarah Louisa Forten Poems

The Grave Of The Slave

The cold storms of winter shall chill him no more,
His woes and his sorrows, his pains are all o'er;
The sod of the valley now covers his form,

The Separation

'Friend after friend departs.'
And they are gone-that little band
Of friends-the firm and true!
We feel the void which absence makes,

The Slave

Our sires who once in freedom's cause,
Their boasted freedom sought and won,
For deeds of glory gained applause,

The Slave Girl's Address To Her Mother

Oh! mother, weep not, though our lot be hard,
And we are helpless-God will be our guard:
For He our heavenly guardian doth not sleep;

The Slave Girl's Farewell

Mother, I leave thee-thou hast been
Through long, long years of pain
The only hope my fond heart knew;
Or e'er shall know again.

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