The Poetical Works of Elizabeth Margaret Chandler/Gloom

Gloom
Do you feel sorrowful? I sometimes do, When busy thought tells me the sufferings Of some in our south land. Their brows are not So fair as thine, by much, but yet they are Our sisters, for the mighty God hath given To them the boon of an immortal soul. Yet they are made through life's long years to toil, Scourge-driven like the brute; and with the fine And delicate pulses of a human heart, Stirring to anguish in their bosoms, sold! Ay, like the meanest household chattel, sold! Vended from hand to hand, while with each wrench Their torn hearts bleed at every throbbing pore. Alas! how can I but feel sorrowful, To think upon their woes?