The Farewell Of A Virginia Slave Mother

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern Bondage.     Gone, gone, sold and gone     To the rice-swamp dank and lone.     Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings     Where the noisome insect stings     Where the fever demon strews     Poison with the falling dews     Where the sickly sunbeams glare     Through the hot and misty air;     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone,     From Virginia's hills and waters;     Woe is me, my stolen daughters!     Gone, gone, sold and gone     To the rice-swamp dank and lone     There no mother's eye is near them,     There no mother's ear can hear them;     Never, when the torturing lash     Seams their back with many a gash     Shall a mother's kindness bless them     Or a mother's arms caress them.     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone,     From Virginia's hills and waters;     Woe is me, my stolen daughters!     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone,     Oh, when weary, sad, and slow,     From the fields at night they go     Faint with toil, and racked with pain     To their cheerless homes again,     There no brother's voice shall greet them     There no father's welcome meet them.     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone,     From Virginia's hills and waters;     Woe is me, my stolen daughters!     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone     From the tree whose shadow lay     On their childhood's place of play;     From the cool spring where they drank;     Rock, and hill, and rivulet bank;     From the solemn house of prayer,     And the holy counsels there;     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone,     From Virginia's hills and waters;     Woe is me, my stolen daughters!     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone;     Toiling through the weary day,     And at night the spoiler's prey.     Oh, that they had earlier died,     Sleeping calmly, side by side,     Where the tyrant's power is o'er     And the fetter galls no more!     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone;     From Virginia's hills and waters     Woe is me, my stolen daughters!     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone;     By the holy love He beareth;     By the bruised reed He spareth;     Oh, may He, to whom alone     All their cruel wrongs are known,     Still their hope and refuge prove,     With a more than mother's love.     Gone, gone, sold and gone,     To the rice-swamp dank and lone,     From Virginia's hills and waters;     Woe is me, my stolen daughters