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Poems by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
page 52 of 95 (54%)
"Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked
to dance for the amusement of some white
toughs. He refused, saying he was a church
member. One of the men knocked him
down with a club and then danced upon his
prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the
hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at
large."--News Item.

He lifted up his pleading eyes,
And scanned each cruel face,
Where cold and brutal cowardice
Had left its evil trace.

It was when tender memories
Round Beth'lem's manger lay,

(49)


50 THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.

And mothers told their little ones
Of Jesu's natal day.

And of the Magi from the East
Who came their gifts to bring,
And bow in rev'rence at the feet
Of Salem's new-born King.

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