| Silhouette of a Child |
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| In the dark behind curtains of satin. a child watches his mother die; while the father says prayers softly in Latin, this child has learned how to lie. So long has it been since the meeting, of the two hearts and two hands by the river's edge; and still one touch keeps two hearts loudly beating, they say a vow, an oath, an eternal pledge. One crack of the whip keeps them working, in fields of cotton, tobbacco and Gray; but lo in the woods runaways are lurking, while the field hands are wasting away. Softly calling, the voice says come hither, and listen to all that I say- while snake men may do nothing but slither, it is often much worse to just pray. |