Sarah Louisa Forten Poems

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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.

On The Abandonment Of Prejudice

We are thy sisters; God has truly said
That of one blood the nations he has made.
O Christian woman, in a Christian land.

Past Joys

The friends we've loved, the home we've left,
Will oftimes claim a tear;
And though of these we are bereft,
Will memory makes them dear.


This sacred right none are denied,
Which makes the soul to Christ allied;
Man bends the heart and bows the knee,

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