To Create A Little Flower Is The

Oh! Why Was I Born With A Different Face? Why Was I Not Born Like The Rest Of My Race? When I Look,each One Starts! When I Speak, I Offend; Then Im Silent & Passive & Lose Every Friend. Then My Verse I Dishonour, My Pictures Despise, My Person Degrade & My Temper Chastise; And The Pen Is My Terror, The Pencil My Shame; All My Talents I Bury, And Dead Is My Fame. Im Either Too Low Or Too Highly Prized; When Elate I M Envy'd, When Meek Im Despis'd

He Who Replies To Words Of Doubt Doth Put The Light Of Knowledge Out.

I Thought Love Lived In The Hot Sunshine, But O, He Lives In The Moony Light! I Thought To Find Love In The Heat Of Day, But Sweet Love Is The Comforter Of Night.

O White-robed Angel, Guide My Timorous Hand To Write As On A Lofty Rock With Iron Pen The Words Of Truth, That All Who Pass May Read.

The Little Ones Leaped, And Shouted, And Laugh'd And All The Hills Echoed