University of Virginia Library


59

MIRIAM'S WOE.

Miriam at the planter's door,
Her child upon her knee,
Sat as the twilight gathered round
The vale of Nacoochee.
Sat with an anguish in her eyes,
And forehead bended low—
Sat like a statue carved in stone,
All pallid with her woe!

60

By dark bayou and cypress-swamp,
By rice-field and lagoon,
Her soul went wandering to the land
That scorches in the noon!
And on the lover of her youth
She turned her patient eyes,
And saw him sad, and faint, and sick
Beneath those alien skies.
She saw him pick the cotton-blooms
And cut the sugar-cane—
A ring of iron on his wrist,
And round his heart a chain!
She saw him, when his work was done,
Sit down in some lone place,
To dream of her, and weep for her,
His hands across his face!

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She heard the dear old violin
That he was wont to play
At twilight, in their courting-time,
When life was sweet as May!
Then suddenly a catbird called
From out a neighboring tree,
And Miriam's soul came back again
To the vale of Nacoochee.
And closer, closer to her heart
She held the little child,
Who stretched its fragile hand to feel
Her bosom's warmth, and smiled.
But she—she did not own a touch
Of that fond little hand—
Great God! that such a thing should be
Within a Christian land!