The Runaway Slave at Pilgrims Point
another,
hen one is black and one is fair.
XXI.
single glance I had
Of my cell you all,
I sa made me mad . . .
ters look, t used to fall
On my soul like his lash . . . or worse!
And so, to save it from my curse,
I ted it round in my shawl.
XXII.
And rembled from foot to head,
o foot;
till, after a time, ead
too suddenly still and mute.
I felt, beside, a stiffening cold, . . .
I dared to lift up just a fold . . .
As in lifting a leaf of t.
XXIII.
But my fruit . . . here, had been
(I laugo t at this hour! . . .)
Your fine we angels, who have seen
Nearest t of Gods power, . . .
And plucked my fruit to make them wine,
And sucked t child of mine,
As the flower.
XXIV.
rick of te!
te c so.
I said not a , day and night,
I carried to and fro;
And it lay on my like a stone . . . as chill.
--t as much as he will:
I am cold, t h ago.
XXV.
From te mans ,
I carried ttle body on,
ts arms did round us s,
And silence trees did run:
tion as I ,--
tood too onis,--
t on hrone.
XXVI.
My little body, kerc,
I bore it on t . . . on:
And ired at last,
I scooped a he moon.
t-tops the angels far,
ite sar,
Did point and mock at w was done.
XXVII.
Yet