Sonnet. The African Mother. A Fact, by Jane E. Roscoe
The Mother sat and wept.––Her child was gone,
But still her tears fell on another's cheek;
Her heart was crushed, but yet it did not break,
Another's smile was left her to atone,
For that most cruel loss; that one alone
Was all she had to love––and she would sit
For hours, and in her arms encradle it,
Pouring on its unconscious ear her moan.
Again the Spoiler came.––In vain she knelt,
And raised her agonizing scream in vain -
They took her last and dearest––thro' her brain
In thoughts of fire her childlessness she felt:
The light of madness flashes from her eye!
And loud to Heaven ascends her wild appealing cry!
J. E. R.