I knew that white men scorned my race,
But tenderest words thou gave to me;
I knew that others' love was false,
But never once I doubted thee.
All silently, like sweetest dreams,
Thy love upon mv spirit stole,
And rainbow hues and starry gleams
Were blent and woven round my soul.
They said I was my father's slave,
But joyous in his halls I grew,
And bond or free was nought to me,
For thou wast near, and seemed so true.
By orange grove and murmuring stream
Thy low deep tones 'twas bliss to hear,
And music, more divinely sweet,
Has never fallen on mine ear.
The driver's stroke my long dream broke,
Upon that dark despairing day.
When thou beheld me shrieking sold,
And cold and silent turned away!
I would have borne a thousand woes,
To turn one ill aside from thee,
And death's chill pangs had all been sweet,
If thou in love didst look on me.
For, where the Sabine darkly rolls,
With burning brain alone I weep,
The cold stars mock me from their heights,
And colder dreams disturb my sleep.
Deserted, sold, cast off by thee.
My hour of rest I know is nigh;
My heart is broken, but its prayer
Is raised for thee e'en while I die!—S.