And don the life and livery of a slave?
Would men look’d Godward more! ’Twould save their souls
From many a hell that their own hands have made.
One time when young I stood before a tree,
And vow’d that, till an hour had pass’d away,
My eye should see it not. What came of it?—
The vow in misery kept me through the hour.
And had it been a maid and not a tree,
The vow had caused me more of misery.
Yet God’s laws never bade me turn my back