XIX
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of The Runaway Slave at Pilgrim's Point
He moaned and beat with his head and feet,
His little feet that never grew—
He struck them out, as it was meet,
Against my heart to break it through.
I might have sung and made him mild—
But I dared not sing to the white-faced child
The only song I knew.