Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song, Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, Whence flow these wishes for the common good, By feeling hearts alone best understood, I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat: What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast? Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway?

Tribute.

swift to flick, Her tongue that tall-tales no swift lie.
swift and quick and honest and praise be to the truth,
that in mid-flick thou shalt know thy common fatalities
once happy (now melancholy) are those which soothe
to no end, to know the common end and our own God.

Kismet & Destiny - I have found my Poetess Hero.

Happy National Poetry Month!