letra de frances e w harper - the slave mother - ghizela rowe
heard you that shriek? it rose
so wildly on the air
it seem’d as if a burden’d heart
was breaking in despair
saw you those hands so sadly clasped—
the bowed and feeble head—
the shuddering of that fragile form—
that look of grief and dread?
saw you the sad, imploring eye?
its every glance was pain
as if a storm of agony
were sweeping through the brain
she is a mother pale with fear
her boy clings to her side
and in her kyrtle vainly tries
his trembling form to hide
he is not hers, although shе bore
for him a mother’s pains;
he is not hеrs, although her blood
is coursing through his veins!
he is not hers, for cruel hands
may rudely tear apart
the only wreath of household love
that binds her breaking heart
his love has been a joyous light
that o’er her pathway smiled
a fountain gushing ever new
amid life’s desert wild
his lightest word has been a tone
of music round her heart
their lives a streamlet blent in one—
oh, father! must they part?
they tear him from her circling arms
her last and fond embrace
oh! never more may her sad eyes
gaze on his mournful face
no marvel, then, these bitter shrieks
disturb the listening air:
she is a mother, and her heart
is breaking in despair
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