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“I hear the talk of the white man’s hope / […] / But never a word of the black man’s hope / Do I hear as time doth roll.” In these poems of identity and love, Fleming proves herself a poet of humanity, in all its shapes and shades. Clouds and Sunshine is a poetry collection by Sarah Lee Brown Fleming.

The Civil War has come and gone, leaving countless formerly enslaved African Americans to rebuild a land destroyed in its effort to preserve its immoral institutions. On John Vance’s plantation, many of these people remain to work for their former master. Among them, Enoch stands out. Hope’s Highway: A Novel is a historical novel by Sarah Lee Brown Fleming.

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“I hear the talk of the white man’s hope / […] / But never a word of the black man’s hope / Do I hear as time doth roll.” In these poems of identity and love, Fleming proves herself a poet of humanity, in all its shapes and shades. Clouds and Sunshine is a poetry collection by Sarah Lee Brown Fleming.

The Civil War has come and gone, leaving countless formerly enslaved African Americans to rebuild a land destroyed in its effort to preserve its immoral institutions. On John Vance’s plantation, many of these people remain to work for their former master. Among them, Enoch stands out. Hope’s Highway: A Novel is a historical novel by Sarah Lee Brown Fleming.

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Excerpt from Clouds and SunshineDorotheaThe stars in Heaven now shine with a fuller, gladder light, My days no longer seem a long and dreary night, Since thou dost love me dear, all things seem more than bright, Dorothea, Dorothea, my own Dorothea.If griefs and sorrows come, they do not pierce so deep, If tears bedim my eyes they are the bitter-sweet, If death doth part us here, I know somewhere we'll meet, Dorothea, Dorothea, my own Dorothea....

Excerpt from Clouds and Sunshine Dorothea The stars in Heaven now shine with a fuller, gladder light, My days no longer seem a long and dreary night, Since thou dost love me dear, all things seem more than bright, Dorothea, Dorothea, my own Dorothea. If griefs and sorrows come, they do not pierce so deep, If tears bedim my eyes they are the bitter-sweet, If death doth part us here, I know somewhere we'll meet, Dorothea, Dorothea, my o...

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