In course of one more generation,
To a nice copper-color’d nation.
Reader it may be you’re a lady,
Fair as the blush of morn in May day,—
And not much smitten with our plan
Of union with a color’d man.
Bah! bah! my dear, I tell you this is
The silliest of prejudices;
Cupid will duly elevate him,
And Hymen will amalgamate him.