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The Slave's Complaint

11
 by George Moses Horton

    Am I sadly cast aside,

    On misfortune's rugged tide?

    Will the world my pains deride

    Forever?

    Must I dwell in Slavery's night,

    And all pleasure take its flight,

    Far beyond my feeble sight,

    Forever?

    Worst of all, must hope grow dim,

    And withhold her cheering beam?

    Rather let me sleep and dream

    Forever!

    Something still my heart surveys,

    Groping through this dreary maze;

    Is it Hope?——they burn and blaze

    Forever!

    Leave me not a wretch confined,

    Altogether lame and blind——

    Unto gross despair consigned,

    Forever!

    Heaven! in whom can I confide?

    Canst thou not for all provide?

    Condescend to be my guide

    Forever:

    And when this transient life shall end,

    Oh, may some kind, eternal friend

    Bid me from servitude ascend,

    Forever!

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