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John Greenleaf Whittier - The Farewell of a Virginia Slave Mother
Work rating: Medium

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!
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