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[65] And man, in whom an angel's mind
     With earth's low instincts finds abode,
The highest of the links which bind
     Brute nature to her God;

His infant eye hath seen the light,
     His childhood's merriest laughter rung,
And active sports to manlier might
     The nerves of boyhood strung!

And quiet love, and passion's fires,
     Have soothed or burned in manhood's breast,
And lofty aims and low desires
     By turns disturbed his rest.

The wailing of the newly-born
     Has mingled with the funeral knell;
And o'er the dying's ear has gone
     The merry marriage-bell.

And Wealth has filled his halls with mirth,
     While Want, in many a humble shed,
Toiled, shivering by her cheerless hearth,
     The live-long night for bread.

And worse than all, the human slave,
     The sport of lust, and pride, and scorn!
Plucked off the crown his Maker gave,
     His regal manhood gone!

Oh, still, my country! o'er thy plains,
     Blackened with slavery's blight and ban,
That human chattel drags his chains,
     An uncreated man!

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