The Quadroon Girl To Her Lover

G.C. Howard, 1854

I will still preserve my fame, Whips shall never conquor me, Tho' I sink and writhe in pain, I'm devoted still to thee; Let the arch seducer come With his dark and fiendish spell, One sweet sentence 'scapes my tongue, Richard, fare thee well. Must I never see thee more, Lover of this wretched heart? Hard the fate which we deplore, Doom'd for ever thus to part; Snares surround me, but in vain, That will fail my soul to quell, Yet ere madness racks my brain, Richard, fare thee well.