English poem
Princess
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
What means, my son, this strange election? What wild chimera floats across thy mind? What sudden impulse moves thy soul? Thou who Hast only trod the court of kings, why seek Instead the paths of labor? Thou, whose limbs Have known no other garb than that which well Befits our kingly state, why rather choose The badge of servitude and toil?