VIII
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point
And still God's sunshine and His frost,
They make us hot, they make us cold,
As if we were not black and lost:
And the beasts and birds, in wood and fold,
Do fear and take us for very men!
Could the weep-poor-will or the cat of the glen
Look into my eyes and be bold?