liss:

    marvel, if eacurned to lack?

    t of his,--

    to touch

    ! . . . not much,

    Ye pilgrim-souls, . . . this!

    XV.

    rong, followed by a deeper wrong!

    Mere griefs too good for such as I.

    So te men broughe shame ere long

    to strangle the sob of my agony.

    t leave me for my dull

    et eyes!--it oo merciful

    to let me ears and die.

    XVI.

    I am black, I am black!--

    I wore a c

    An amulet t oo slack,

    And, in my unrest, could not rest:

    t moaning, cher,

    One to anoto another,

    Until all ended for t:

    XVII.

    For ell you low . . . Iow . . .

    I am black, you see,--

    And the babe who lay on my bosom so,

    as far too oo we for me;

    As o pray

    Beside me at c yesterday;

    tears had washed a place for my knee.

    XVIII.

    My own, own c bear

    to look in  was so we.

    I covered here;

    I covered ight:

    And ruggled, as  be,

    For te ced y--

    ed er right.

    XIX.

    ,

    tle feet t never grew--

    ruck t, as it ,

    Against my  to break it through.

    I might have sung and made him mild--

    But I dared not sing to te-faced child

    the only song I knew.

    XX.

    I pulled the kerchief very close:

    see the sun, I swear,

    More, than now he does

    From bets of the mango . . . where

    . . . I know wher

    Do o look at one