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 | The Poetical Works of James Madison Bell |  |
But is there aught to haunt a dream,
That man should so unwelcome deem,
As to regard it worse than stripes—
Worse than slavery's mildest types?
No, no! there's nothing, rest assured,
In life or death to be endured—
There are no tortures to excel
The fires of a Southern hell!
The lash, the yoke, the gag, the chain,
May each produce a world of pain;
But what are these, though all combined,
To gross sterility of mind?
That man should so unwelcome deem,
As to regard it worse than stripes—
Worse than slavery's mildest types?
No, no! there's nothing, rest assured,
In life or death to be endured—
There are no tortures to excel
The fires of a Southern hell!
The lash, the yoke, the gag, the chain,
May each produce a world of pain;
But what are these, though all combined,
To gross sterility of mind?
| The Poetical Works of James Madison Bell | |