De Bow's Review, June 01, 1860
A NORTH CAROLINA POET.
George Moses Horton- more generally known as “Poet Horton,”-“the subject of these brief memoirs,” is a negro and a slave, belonging to a gentleman of an adjoining county. At an early age he felt, rankling within him, and ever and anon twitching his heart-strings, the real poetical inspiration which induced him to apply himself to the science of letters; this he did with such untiring zeal and industry, that in a short time, and with very little aid, he became quite a proficient in both reading and writing. His inherent love for poetry was very much enhanced by the perusal of an old hymn book, the property of his mother; having mastered which, he applied himself to Campbell's poems, and committed to memory the whole of the pleasures of Hope.
One fine morning it occurred to him that there might be other combinations of the alphabet having measure and rhyme, and thenceforth he was a full-fledged poet.
The late Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, whose husband was then a professor in the University, having been pleased with some of his verses, took great interest in him and bestowed some pains on his instruction; he afterward showed his gratitude for her kindness by writing a eulogy on her at her death.
Some years ago he had printed a book of poems, which, on account of his pecuniary difficulties, never emerged from a dark corner of the printing-office. It can never shine forth but by the reflected light of twenty-five cent pieces.
He lives, at present, by his talents, writing acrostics, etc., for the students at a quarter of a dollar each, which enables him to hire his time, and devote his attention exclusively to the muses. He has favored us with a sight of the manuscript of another book of his poems, which, from the length of his subscription list, we doubt not he will be able to publish by the next Commencement. It will be rather a large book; the manuscript contains two hundred and twenty-nine pages letter-paper, closely written. His price will be one dollar per copy.
All who have graduated here within the last thirty-five years no doubt remember the sable poet, and will need but the statement above to induce them to send on their names as subscribers.
We give below a specimen of his writings:
GOOD-BY.
I leave thee, with a falling tear,
And mount the fleeting car;
'Tis death to part with one so dear—
For to my view thy charms appear
Like some revolving star.
I leave thee, but with deep concern
Which hope cannot remove.
Oh! do not my affection spurn,
But patient wait till my return,
And prove the truth of love!
I leave thee, but I love thee yet,
The queen of ev'ry bloom;
I never shall my choice regret,
Until the sun of life shall set,
And love sink in the tomb.
Oh! lady, take these lines to heart!
The last fond tale I tell,
Is that my own dear love thou art;
Then till we meet no more to part,
My lady, fare thee well!
N. C. University Magazine.
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