Smith, Effie Waller
Rhymes from the Cumberland
The pathway thou art walking now
With weary feet, dear one,
Hedged in by briers and poison vine,
Bestrewn with sticks and stone:
Oh, grumble not, 'twill lead thee to
A smoother and a better way
Shaded by broad-armed elm trees
And fringed with flowers--some day.
Oh, weary toiling one,
Whose brow is wet with sweat,
Mind not thy task, though it be,
Mind not the scorching heat.
Toil on and sing a little bit
In cheerful tones and gay
While at thy work, and don't forget
There's rest for thee--some day.
And thou, bereaved one,
Why grieve and sorrow on
With low-dropped head and weeping eyes
For loved ones dead and gone.
Believe and trust the Father
Who has taken them away,
Knoweth best and will give them
Again to thee--some day.
Lines written on the fly-leaf of a volume of
poems presented to Mary Elliot Flanery.
Dear Mrs. Flanery
As your eager eyes peruse
These pages over and again,
These verses sent me by the muse
I'd have you know that not in vain,
You wrote those sincere words of praise
Of me who sprang from humble birth,
Sprang from a race down trod and low,
Cursed, abused, despised of earth.
A pleasant fact it is to know
(Though now it's not Anti-slavery days)
That that same principle possessed
By Summer, Phillips, Whittier, Stowe
Vibrates within your noble breast,
Which fortune cannot overthrow,
Which ridicule cannot remove.
A heart more generous than your own
To freedom and to human kind
The flight of years have never known,
Have never, never dared to find.
Live long your principles to prove.