Saturday, April 23, 2022


Today, the spotlight shines on a poem published on January 20, 1852, written by Frank Addison Mowig Philom.


My pen, my pen, my joy and my pride,

My idol I worship each day ;

A gem which adversity giveth to me,

Shall speak of the shackles, the bond, and the free,

And sound thy loud anthems o'er woodland and lea,

To echo forever and aye.

My pen, my pen, thou hope of my youth,

What visions I saw in thy name ;

My castles have fallen, alas! I am left,

From friends and from kindred, and almost bereft,

I feel the cold pinions around me are pressed

That shall stifle my infant-like frame.

My pen, my pen, I wished not for thee

To leave me a gainer of gold,

No--motives more pure, I trust now impart

A halo of love still nearer my heart,

That shall shine with more brilliance when lucre and art

Are with the past ages enrolled.

My pen, my pen, thy noblest of arms,

Thou "Grand Worthy Scribe" of the world,

'Tis not for the name, but thy valueless worth,

That maketh thee my dearest of treasure on earth,

And call for loud praises around each peasant's hearth,

Where beauty's so clearly unfurled.

My pen, my pen, there is joy in thy name.

My heart shall be ever thineown ;

While a Washington's banner around shall wave,

Oh! stretch forth thy hand like an angel to save

From deep tears of anguish a FREE COUNTRY'S SLAVE,

That the stain be forever unknown.

My pen, my pen, when I leave this dark sphere,

And pass to another more blest,

'Tis now my fond wish that there I may be

Engaged in recording some virtues of thee,

Who hast in thy might caused the SLAVE to stand free,

And at last reach a haven of rest.

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