Elizabeth Margaret Chandler,
Poetical Works — The Negro Father's Lamentation Over the Body of His Infant Son
“ Must bear the storms that round me beat, alone.'T is well! Thou wilt not share those storms with me, That is my all of comfort in this hour— I weep not, though I would have died for thee! Ay, more than died— that sacrifice were poor— I would have spurn'd the hand that set me free, And clasp'd my chain, and lived a slave, for thee.My boy! my darling boy! farewell, farewell! ”
