Poems by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
page 69 of 95 (72%)
page 69 of 95 (72%)
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Was entering in at his door.
He had no line to sound the depths Of her tears repressed and unshed; Nor dreamed 'mid plenty a human heart Could be starving, but not for bread. The hungry heart was stilled at last; Its restless, baffled yearning ceased. A lonely man sat by the bier Of a corpse that was going East. 66 THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE. THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE. From Rome's palaces and villas Gaily issued forth a throng; From her humbler habitations Moved a human tide along. Haughty dames and blooming maidens, Men who knew not mercy's sway, Thronged into the Coliseum On that Roman holiday. From the lonely wilds of Asia, From her jungles far away, From the distant torrid regions, |
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