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opposite Dr. Bulfinch's at West Boston, where her friends and acquaintances are desired to attend."

For several reasons we regret her early death and the last, miserable years of her life, the sorrows of which clearly left their mark on her work of this period. The literary work of her life is small, far too small. I feel that much original talent lay hidden in the soul of this poet, and that the best work she was capable of, has been denied us. What we have must not be too strictly criticised. An amiable talent of a slightly imitative nature, with here and there a flash of string originality- an unusual expression- a heroic gesture, worthy of the greatest genius.  That is why I regret the early death which destroyed so many possibilities, and left us in possession of only poems "for Occasions", verses written on occasions of family affliction and other simple occurrences.  Verses which, bound to an occasion and to local interest lose much of the possibilities of pure poetical expression.

We must, however, consent to take things as they are, and in the meanwhile be satisfied with this "Negro Sappho" as the greatest exponent of literary genius which the Negro race has brought forth.

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