To Harriet

Whose is the love that, gleaming through the world,
Wards off the poisonous arrow of its scorn?
Whose is the warm and partial praise,
Virtue's most sweet reward?

Beneath whose looks did my reviving soul
Riper in truth and virtuous daring grow?
Whose eyes have I...

Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley
Harriet Beecher Stowe

She told the story, and the whole world wept
At wrongs and cruelties it had not known
But for this fearless woman’s voice alone.
She spoke to consciences that long had slept:
Her message, Freedom’s clear reveille, swept
From heedless hovel to complacent...

Poet: Paul Laurence Dunbar
The Dreadful Story about Harriet and the Matches

From “The English Struwwelpeter”
IT almost makes me cry to tell
What foolish Harriet befel.
Mamma and Nurse went out one day
And left her all alone at play;
Now, on the table close at hand,
A box of matches chanced to stand;
And kind Mamma...

Poet: Heinrich Hoffmann
Harriet Beecher Stowe

She told the story, and the whole world wept
At wrongs and cruelties it had not known
But for this fearless woman’s voice alone.
She spoke to consciences that long had slept:
Her message. Freedom’s clear reveille, swept
From heedless hovel to complacent...

Poet: Paul Laurence Dunbar