Elizabeth Margaret Chandler,
Poetical Works — The Recaptured Slave
“ And every thing upon the earth, Seem'd fraught with joy—but now, one word, One only word, came o'er my brain, Again, again, again, As if 't were scorch'd in characters of flame And that one word was Freedom! all things seem'd To shape their voices only to that name— The wild bird's joyous song—the fish that gleam'd Through the bright flood—the murmur of the wave— Nay, even the breath of heaven—methought seem'd whispering, Slave! ”
