To leave on all its bloom a deadly stain?
“Oh! could I only bear this all alone,
The grinding poverty—the lurking sneer—
All the poor debtor’s wretchedness—no moan
My soul would utter audibly, but here
My heart of hearts is crushed, my life of life,
They suffer also, child, and babe, and wife.
“We leave the homestead;—wanderers we go,
From friends, from kindred, and our native land—
My God! if I have merited such wo,