Embracing an account of his early life, the redemption by purchase
of himself and family from slavery,
And his banishment from the place of his birth for the crime
of wearing a colored skin.
Published By Himself.
Boston:
Printed for the Publisher:
J. G. Torrey, Printer.
1842
NARRATIVE
OF
LUNSFORD LANE.
[ORIGINAL.]
The Slave Mother's Address
TO HER
INFANT CHILD.
I cannot tell how much I love
To look on thee, my child;
Nor how that looking rocks my soul
As on a tempest wild;
For I have borne thee to the world,
And bid thee breathe its air,
But soon to see around thee drawn
The curtains of despair.
Now thou art happy, child, I know,
As little babe can be;
Thou dost not fancy in thy dreams
But thou art all as free
As birds upon the mountain winds,
(If thou hast thought of bird,)
Or anything thou thinkest of,
Or thy young ear has heard.
What are thy little thoughts about?
I cannot certain know,
Only there's not a wing of them
Upon a breath of woe,
For not a shadow's on thy face,
Nor billow heaves thy breast,--
All clear as any summer's lake
With not a zephyr press'd.