Feels not our misery."

The pallid slave yet paler grew,
And ended here his bitter cry...
And thus to him I made reply:
"My friend, you judge untrue.

"My strength and skill, like yours, are gain
For others... Sold!... You understand?
Your master--well--he owns your hand,
And mine--he owns my brain."




The Jewish May


May has come from out the showers,
Sun and splendor in her train.
All the grasses and the flowers
Waken up to life again.
Once again the leaves do show,
And the meadow blossoms blow,
Once again through hills and dales
Rise the songs of nightingales.

Wheresoe'er on field or hillside
With her paint-brush Spring is seen,--
In the valley, by the rillside,