Category: Harper

But when she, a hunted sister, Stretched her hands that ye might save, Colder far than Zembla’s regions, Was the answer that ye gave.

Make me a grave where’er you will,In a lowly plain or a lofty hill,Make it among earth’s humbled graves,But not in land where men are slaves. I could not rest if around my graveI heard the steps of a trembling slave:His shadow above my silent tombWould make it a place of fearful gloom. 8I could…