, . . .

    Eart me and my baby, strewed,

    All, co black earte, . . .

    A dark che dark,--ensued

    Some comfort, and my  grew young:

    I sate dohere and sung

    t in my maidenhood.

    XXVIII.

    And two were reconciled,

    te chus:

    For, as I sang it, soft and wild

    the same song, more melodious,

    Rose from te!

    It ,

    to join th of us.

    XXIX.

    I look on the sky!

    anchored lay,

    th gloriously;

    But ts have slid away

    t streaks of the morn.

    My face is black, but it glares h a scorn

    meet by day.

    XXX.

    Aead, ter sons!

    A in a ring--

    Keep off! I brave you all at once--

    I t sting!

    You  nest, I think:

    Did you never stand still in your triumph, and shrink

    From troke of her wounded wing?

    XXXI.

    (Man, drop t stone you dared to lift!--)

    I ,

    Eac,

    A little corpse as safely at rest

    As mine in t she

    May keep live babies on her knee,

    And sing t.

    XXXll.

    I am not mad: I am black.

    I see you staring in my face--

    I knoaring, shrinking back--

    Ye are born of ton-race:

    And the free America:

    And t . . . (I prove w I say)

    Ropes tied me up o the flogging-place.

    XXXIII.

    You t a sound!

    I he sun.

    I only cursed them all around,

    As softly as I might have done

    My very own chese sands