New Orleans Republican., 1868-10-16
The Boat of Grass.

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T. H. STANTON. d
The Boat of Grass.
For years the slave endured his yoke,
Down.trodden, wronged misused, opprest
Yet fe.long serfdom could not choke
The seeds of freedom in his breast.
At length upon the north wind came
A whisper stealing through the land;
1t spread from hut 10 hut like flamGs
Take heart! the hour is near at hand
The whisper spread, and 10 on high,
The dawn OF an unhoped for day;
Be glad The Northern troops are nigh,
The feet is in Port Royal bay.
Responsive to the words of cheer,
An inner voice said-"Rise and fee!
Be strong and cast away all fear,
Thou art man, and thou art free
And full of new born hope and might,
He started up and seaward fed;
By day he turned aside, by night
He followed where the North star led.
Through miles of barren pine and waste,
And el dless breadth OF swamp and sedge,
BY streams whose tortu0us path is traced
In tangled growth along thelr edge.
Two nights he fed--no sound was heard,
He met no creature Oh his way,
Two days crouched in the bush-the third,
He heard the blood.hOund's distant bay.
They drag him back to stripes and shame,
And bitter, unrequited toll;
With red d-hot gives his feet they main,
All future thought of fight to foil.
We shudderiDg turn from such cup,
We dare not look on his despair;
For them, oh, let US offer up
The Savior's sacrifcial prayer.
But the celestial voice that spake
Erst in his soul might not be hushed--
The sense of birthright, once awake,
Could never, neVermofe be crushed.
And brave of heart, and strong of will,
He kept his purpose, laid his plan,
Though crippled, chained and captive, still
slave no longer, but man.
Eleven months his soul he steeled
To toll and wait in silent pain,
But in the twelfth his wounds were healed
He burst his bonds and fled again.
A weary winding stream he sought,
And crossed its waters to and tro;
An Indian vile, to set at naught
The bloody instinct of his foe.
The waters widen to fen,
And while he hid him breathless there,
With brutal cries Of dogs and men
The hunt went round and round his lair.
The bafiled hounds have lost the track
With many curse and many cry,
The angry owners called them back,
And so the wild pursuit went by.
The deadly peril seemed to pass,
And then he dared to raise his head
Above the tangled marish grass
That matted o'er the river bed.
The long, broad leaves that round him grew
He had been won't to bind in plat,
And we'll, with simple skill, he knew
To shape the basket and the mat.
Now in their tresses, sad and dull,
He saw the hope of his escape,
And patiently began to Gull
And weave them in canoe-like shape.
To give the reedy fabric slight
An armOr 'gainst the rushing brine,
With painful care he sought by night
The amber weepings OF the pine.
And since on that Egyptian wave
The Hebrew launched his little ark,
Faith never to Gods keeping gave
So great hope, 80 frail bark.
All silent river of the South,
Whose lonely streams ne'er felt the oar
In all its course from rise to mouth,
=
~ stretcb o,,t oIn thsr bonabs from, eitbar hank
Across the stream and many a vine
Eestoors S tbenn ,yitb tn lnynri.rce rapl,
oO-9 '--o--1 "-'- "a ~ '''-' -
Meath oyerhanging shrubs was drawn,