what heart could be so hard as
not to be pierced with piteous feelings
to see that company –
that peculiar institution which serves
no greater purpose than to
rob the heart of every gentle disposition,
and to harden it, like steel?
you are loosed from your moorings –
you are free!
i am fast in my chains and am a slave!
you move merrily before the
precious, gentle gale, and
I sadly before the bloody whip.
you are freedom’s sweet swift-winged angels
that fly `round this world.
i am confined in bands of iron.
o, that i were free –
nestled in the mane of the
british lion,
protected by his mighty paw…
safe and free from the
talons and beak of the
american eagle.
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