THE SLAVE AUCTION by Frances E. W. Harper.

The sale began-young girls were there,
Defenseless in their wretchedness,
Whose stifled sobs of deep despair
Revealed their anguish and distress.

And Mothers stood with streaming eyes,
And saw their dearest children sold;
Unheeded rose their bitter cries,
While tyrants battered them for gold.

And women, with her love and truth-
For those in sable forms may dwell-
Gazed on the husband of her youth,
With anguish none may paint or tell.

And men, whose sole crime was their hue,
The impress of their Maker’s hand,
And frail and shrieking children, too,
Were gathered in that mournful band.

Ye who have laid your love to rest,
And swept above their lifeless clay,
Know not the anguish of that heart,
Whose loved are rudely torn away.

Ye may not know how desolate
Are husbands rudely forced to part,
And how a dull and heavy weight
Will press the life-drops from the heart….

Frances Harper

Category: Freedom,