TO MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE
BY FRANCES E. WATKINS
I thank thee for thy pleading For the helpless of our race; Long as our hearts are beating In them thou hast a place.
I thank thee for thy pleading For the fetter'd and the dumb; The blessing of the perishing Around thy path shall come.
I thank thee for the kindly words That grac'd thy pen of fire, And thrilled upon the living chords Of many a heart's deep lyre.
For the sisters of our race Thou'st nobly done thy part; Thou hast won thyself a place In every human heart.
The halo that surrounds thy name Hath reached from shore to shore; But thy best and brightest fame Is the blessing of the poor.
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