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The Past, Present, and Future

In Prose and Poetry.
Clark, Benjamin Cutler

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POETRY.
 I. 
I. ETHIOPIA.
 II. 
II. AN ACROSTIC.
 III. 
III. SING UNTO GOD.
 IV. 
IV. IN MEMORIAM, On the late Right Reverend Richard Allen, first Bishop of the A. M. E. Church.
 V. 
V. HYMN.
 VI. 
VI. HAMAN.
 VII. 
VII. LABOR.
 VIII. 
VIII. WINDS.
 IX. 
IX. THE EMIGRANT.
 X. 
X. FRIENDSHIP.
 XI. 
XI. ON SEEING A SNOW-BIRD.
 XII. 
XII. AN ACROSTIC.
 XIII. 
XIII. TO SPRING.
 XIV. 
XIV. THE SLAVE-CATCHER.
 XV. 
XV. LINES Inscribed to Benjamin Lundy, Esq.
 XVI. 
XVI. THE SLAVE-HOLDER'S APOLOGY.
 XVII. 
XVII. WHAT IS TRUTH?
 XVIII. 
XVIII. PRAYER.
 XIX. 
XIX. ON THE FUGITIVE LAW.
 XX. 
XX. ACROSTIC.
 XXI. 
XXI. THE SEMINOLÉ.
 XXII. 
XXII. TO MY MOTHER—LETTY WALLACE.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. THE TWO FUGITIVES.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. PARAPHRASE, Luke XXIV.
 XXV. 
XXV. ON JEALOUSY.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. I'VE SEEN.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. NO ENEMIES.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. WHAT IS A SLAVE?
 XXIX. 
XXIX. ON PREJUDICE.
 XXX. 
XXX. ON BUBBLES.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. BRING FLOWERS.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. THE CAPTIVE.
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. LINES On hearing of the Burning of the Steamer “Lexington.”
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. LIFE'S STRUGGLE.
 XXXV. 
XXXV. THE TREE.
 XXXVI. 
XXXVI. ON DEATH.
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII. THE SLAVE'S LAMENT.
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII. ACROSTIC.
 XXXIX. 
XXXIX. HYMN, On the Celebration of the Freedom of the West Indies.
 XL. 
XL. AUTUMN.
 XLI. 
XLI. ODE TO DEITY.
 XLII. 
XLII. GOD SPEED.
 XLIII. 
XLIII. ODE.
 XLIV. 
XLIV. THE REAPER.
 XLV. 
XLV. ODE.
 XLVI. 
XLVI. FORGET THEE.
 XLVII. 
XLVII. TO WRITE.
 XLVIII. 
XLVIII. LINES On the Death of a Child, J. W., aged 11 years.
 XLIX. 
XLIX. WHO HATH COURAGE?
 L. 
L. YEARS.
 LI. 
LI. CHEER UP.
 LII. 
LII. THE PAUPER'S GRAVE.
 LIII. 
LIII. THE CRISIS.
 LIV. 
LIV. AN ACROSTIC.
 LV. 
LV. REQUIESCAT IN PACE.
 LVI. 
LVI. PILGRIM.
 LVII. 
LVII. NO ENERGY.
 LVIII. 
LVIII. ACROSTIC, A. C. C.
 LIX. 
LIX. AN EPITAPH ON MY DOG TURK.
 LX. 
LX. DO THEY MISS ME?
 LXI. 
LXI. GOSSIP!
 LXII. 
LXII. LOVE.
 LXIII. 
LXIII. ON THE TIMES.
 LXIV. 
LXIV. MEET IN HEAVEN.
 LXV. 
LXV. BE JOYFUL!

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XIV. THE SLAVE-CATCHER.

Hark! the cry,
“A slave ran by!”
Quick, pursue the track;
Don't delay—
He'll get away
Ere we get him back.
65

I regard
The large reward
By the master giv'n;
And I go
Through rain and snow,
As by it I'm driv'n.
I am, sir,
The master's cur,
As I'm known to scout
Through the fen,
The bog, and glen,
When a slave is out.
Hark! the cry,
“A slave's gone by!”
Quick, pursue the track;
Don't delay—
He'll get away
Ere we get him back!
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