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Old 03-01-06, 06:21 PM   #3
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Posts: 147
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Melancholy Melody

OFFSPRING of love divine, Humanity!
To who, his eldest born, the Eternal gave
Dominion over the heart; and taught to touch
Its varied stops in sweetest unison;
And strike the string that from a kindred breast
Responsive vibrates! from the noisy haunts...
.
Of mercantile confusion, where the voice becomes a prayer,
It is over-heard from the blaring meretricious glare
Of crowded theatres, where in the cheerless place,
Sits Sensibility, our watery eyes meet numbers of unlightened faces,
Dropping over fancied woes her useless tear was still,
"Come here, sit and weep with me; our substantial ills;
Torn from their natal shore, and doomed to bear unloving weather,
The breeze was cool as the ocean, sand was light as feathers
Sustain. Nor vainly let our sorrowed blood flow and stain,
Nor let the strong emotion make us cry and rise in vain
But may the kind contagion widely spread throughout the part,
Till in its flame we see the prize, the unrelenting heart
One bright blaze of sparks, the core of universal love,
Gone in grateful incense, rises up to heaven above
Formed with the same capacity of pain, cuts cleanse with salty seas,
The same desire of pleasure, delight, joy, and of ease
Why feels not man for man? When nature shrinks we vanish,
If Mother Nature returns to our land, she will be immediatley bannished

From the slight puncture of an insect's sting, no more nightmares or crime,
Faints if not screened from sultry suns, medicine leaves and pines
Beneath the hardship of an hour's delay, we swim out to sea,
Of needful nutriment and relaxation; when liberty...
Is prized so dearly, that the slightest breath can shade the day,
That ruffles but her mantle, the people can now awake
To arms, unwarlike nations, that can begin the rain,
Confederate states to vindicate and indicate her torrid claims
Why shall the suffering man, follow his nearing doom,
To ills he mourns, or spurns at? flowers with stripes that bloom
His quivering flesh; with hunger and with thirst and drinks oil,
Waste his emaciate frame?............... in ceaseless toils
Exhaust his vital powers; and bind his limbs 'til they're warm,
In galling chains and shackles?, shall he whose fragile form
Demands continual blessings, to support the poor and rude,
Its complicated texture; air, water and the food
To ask those mercies, whilst his selfish aim of remorse,
Arrests the general freedom while their sleepin' during the force?
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Mankind is just a fable.