Going East
Frances E. W. Harper

She came from the East a fair, young bride,
   With a light and a bounding heart,
To find in the distant West a home
   With her husband to make a start.

He builded his cabin far away,
   Where the prairie flower bloomed wild;
Her love made lighter all his toil,
   And joy and hope around him smiled.

She plied her hands to life's homely tasks,
   And helped to build his fortunes up;
While joy and grief, like bitter and sweet,
   Were mingled and mixed in her cup.

He sowed in his fields of golden grain,
   All the strength of his manly prime;
Nor music of birds, nor brooks, nor bees,
   Was as sweet as the dollar's chime.

She toiled and waited through weary years
   For the fortune that came at length;
But toil and care and hope deferred,
   Had stolen and wasted her strength.

The cabin changed to a stately home,
   Rich carpets were hushing her tread;
But light was fading from her eye,
   And the bloom from her cheek had fled.

Slower and heavier grew her step,
   While his gold and his gains increased;
But his proud domain had not the charm
   Of her humble home in the East.

Within her eye was a restless light,
   And a yearning that never ceased,
A longing to see the dear old home
   She had left in the distant East.

A longing to clasp her mother's hand,
   And nestle close to her heart,
And to feel the heavy cares of life
   Like the sun-kissed shadows depart.

Her husband was adding field to field,
   And new wealth to his golden store;
And little thought the shadow of death
   Was entering in at his door.

He had no line to sound the depths
   Of her tears repressed and unshed;
Nor dreamed 'mid plenty a human heart
   Could be starving, but not for bread.

The hungry heart was stilled at last;
   Its restless, baffled yearning ceased.
A lonely man sat by the bier
   Of a corpse that was going East.

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