Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Biography of Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Frances Cornford (1886-1960) was born and lived for most of her life in Cambridge. She was the granddaughter of Charles Darwin, and on her mother’s side was related to William Wordsworth. In 1909 she married the classicist Francis Cornford, who was to become Professor of Ancient Philosophy at Cambridge, and they had five children. Frances Cornford published eight books of poetry and two of translations. Her Collected Poems (1954) was the Choice of the Poetry Book Society, and in 1959 she was awarded the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry.
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Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer Poems
Let us give thanks to God above, Thanks for expressions of His love, Seen in the book of nature, grand Taught by His love on every hand.
Birthday Wishes To A Physician
Birthday greetings From a friend, All thy meetings Peace attend.
Have you ever heard of lynching in the great United States? 'Tis an awful, awful story that the Negro man relates, How the mobs the laws have trampled, both the human and divine, In their killing helpless people as their cruel hearts incline.
The Negro Ballot
Can America be reckoned as the country of the free? In the light of recent actions 'tis a truth that's hard to see.
Injustice Of The Courts
Whites alone upon the jury in a number of the states, Thus they crush a helpless Negro with their prejudicial hates;
Jim Crow Cars
If within the cruel Southland you have chanced to take a ride, You the Jim Crow cars have noticed, how they crush a Negro's pride,
A Legal Mouse
A lawyer had a legal mouse, A naughty one they say, That took possession of his house And papers ev'ry day,
The Truth Suppressed
Why do people sit in darkness as regards the Negro race? Why so ignorant are nations of conditions in the case?
How strangely blind is prejudice, the Negro's greatest foe! It never fails to see the wrong but naught of good can know.
The sixties brought a clash of arms— The mem'ry of it thrills and charms— While Negro slaves for freedom prayed,
A Notable Dinner
Once the nation's chief was honored by the company of one, Who to lift a fallen people had a work of worth begun,
Down in history we find it and in grandest works of art, How the men on fields of battle play so well the soldier's part,
The Eutawville Lynching
In the State of 'Old Palmetto,' from the town of Eutawville, Comes a voice of pain and anguish that refuses to be still.
The ills of all the human race, The woes of earth that bring disgrace Would banish, if we only could, Escape the fiend, Misunderstood.
Have you ever heard of lynching in the great United States?
'Tis an awful, awful story that the Negro man relates,
How the mobs the laws have trampled, both the human and divine,
In their killing helpless people as their cruel hearts incline.
Not the heathen! 'Tis the Christian with the Bible in his hand,
Stands for pain and death to tyrannize the weaklings of the land;
Not the red man nor the Spaniard kills the blacks of Uncle Sam,
'Tis the white man of the nation who will lunch the s