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COPyRIGHT DEPosrr.
The
Deserted Cabin
and
Other Poems
By
I
REV. STERLING M.
MEANS
1915
A. B.
CALDWELL,
Publisher.
Atlanta, Ga.
Copyright
1915
A. B. Caldwell
MAS -6 1915
CI.A398657
TO MY MOTHER
Contents
Introduction
15 17
Ode to the Old South The Ex-Slave In De Happy Land Ob Canaan De Ice-House in de Groun' De Golden Days ob Old Virginy
"The
21
. . : .
.22
25
29
35
New
South"
Charles B. Galloway
To Bishop
On
er
Sunday
Down
in
Dixie
........
37 38
42
45
48 50
51
Who
Peter
Wuz
52
53 56
The Sunset
Parson Ise Gwine Back to Yazoo County President Taf an' de Gawgy 'Possum The Negro Troops at Santiago The South and Its Past
an' de
58
Brur
Tom
New
59 62 65
67 6q
13
7^
^2
Ode
"Lee
Women
of the Confederacy
Rear"
at
Tallulah Falls
78 82
The Monument
Antietam
86 90 92 94 96
De
14
Introduction
OME
may
and to reflect the kind relations that existed between the Master and the Slave and with unfeigned reverence to pay tribute to the gallantry displayed by both the Northern and the Southern armies during the
conflict of the Sixties.
If there
is
sacred to the
anything in the relentless past that is forever memory of the folks in Dixie, it is the "old
plantation;" and the environments that surrounded those years of sweat and sorrow carried with them some fondness
as well as regret. The devotion of the slaves to their masters whose homes were left unguarded in the early
sixties
when
fathers,
The Negro
slaves re-
and stood as sentinels to thousands of Southern homes, and evidenced a fidelity that is unequaled in history. Should the Negro and the Southern White Man, with the better angels of their nature look back to the devotion and kind relation that existed between their forefathers, "mob violence" would die, and their problems would vanish forever: they would form a
loyal to their masters' Cause,
mained
15
man and
the Fatherhood
who
men."
sincerely hope that this
little
We
mer of
when
the
moon on
M. Means.
16
Ode
The
The
to the
Old South
Of weary
slaves
Broke is the spell that held them long The dusky sons of toil and song
Sleep in their graves.
We
As
shall not
Nor hear
Their simple
no more,
The Big House now is quiet and The master sleeps upon the hill,
'Neath mossy tomb
still;
Through the changes coming fast. The mistress and the maid have passed Through Death's dark room.
17
No more No more
Beside lagoons.
Their voices
still
To
cry,
bye
In distant lands.
tears.
cares
measured verse.
And now
Her memory
i8
Old Time
This
is like
a rolling stream;
life is
events sweeps
the deeps,
The Southern maids with golden Rosy cheeks and faces fair.
Then
in their
hair.
bloom;
estate,
met a common
tomb.
fate.
The
silent
Where
And
And
away
From
senate rooms.
19
Gone
Gone are
bow
slave,
He
used to play
He
lived
Now
The
the dead
On
battlefield.
Gone are
Gone
Forever gone;
The
Of Freedom's morn.
20
The Old
They
Ex-Slave.
And their eyes are growing dim, And their ears are dull of hearing, And their faces long and grim.
They
are swiftly disappearing,
And
Are the
Through
now
thin
and gray.
They
shall find
on God's tomorrow
tears.
He
shall
They are
swiftly disappearing,
To
And
the
weary be
at rest."
2T
In
Whur
'Tis er land
Jes' beyon'
ob pure delight,
biller
de heaben
Ob
Whur
Wid
its
its
woe.
de riber
shall hide.
In de haben
we
Whur
22
Den
Tell de
Sez:
"My
erbide
Whur
We is trav'lin th'u
er desert
Dat is full ob scotchin san' An' our feet how oft hab blistered While we journey to dat Ian.'
On
Is
Whur
it,
chillun.
How we
Who
sho.'
infant,
Whur
23
On de udder side ob Jurdon, Whur de saints ob ages gone; Whur de prophets an de martyrs
Am
Whur
many ob
yo' brudders
Hab done
Whur
Now
I sho'
Jacob
Ef some
would grab
Tell I reached
I
my heabenly home
Elijah,
de sanctified
Whur
24
De Ice-House
Erbout de way
But,
in de Groun'
on
my
chile, Ise
not a
sientist,
Fur
An' de
yo'
knows
hoes de co'n
my
'tention.
Wuz
In de middle ob de summer,
Whut
is it
makes de water
here to
cool
Now, my
An'
chile, Ise
tell yo',
may
expect.
foun'
hab diskivered
When de summer sun is shinin', An de earf is parched wid heat When yo' in yo' fieF a-hoein',
De sand er-burnin' ob yo' feet; Den yo' looks ercrost de meaders,
An' sees yo' cabin th'u' de wood, An' yo' little chillun playin' In er happy, merry mood.
Den
F'um de ole plantation spring Den yo' drinks untel yo' feels it,
An' yo' feels so big an' roun', An' yo' wanter know whut makes
'Tis er ice-house in de groun'.
it
;
Some may
An
ob
art,
Ermong
Yo'll
de
fin'
Some hab
While it flashed ercrost de sky, An' some is readin' ob de planets, An' some is tryin' now ter fly.
26
But
I ain't
no
sort
ob
sientist,
In de sky where
flyin'
comets
An
Ef Columbus
Dar
is
Yo'
may read yo' books ob sience, An' may study 'bout de rock
creation's pillers,
is
Read erbout
Yo'
Ob
Adam
Reach
27
But
I will
take
me
to er fountain,
Ter de
Whur
Den
Fur
yo' take
erway
yo' sience,
I
hab
f oun'
hab diskivered
28
; !
Virginy.
man Isom
Erbout de years ob long ergo, Tel my heart wuz full ob sorrer An' de tears begin ter flow
Fur de years
gone fureber Now appears ter me er dream; Fur my f ondes' hopes hab vanished Like er snowflake on de stream.
dat's
Fur de days ob ole Virginy An' its glories long hab passed
Dey
is like
de sunset splenders
cast.
Wid
de ebenin' shaders
my
ole cabin,
ring.
Whur
made my banjer
an' sing.
When
start
de singin',
lightly
all.
I'd take
my
Den ole mistus an' ole marster, Dey at times would come ter hear De banjer an' de corn-song
Fur de sake ob sport
an' cheer.
Ef yo'd been
er Baptis' deacon,
Had
Yo' would cert'nly fell f'um grace yo' been er Meth'dis' elder, Yo' would sho' got out yo' place.
I
Well do
When
Laid erside
Ez
his
members
ole
Granny Lizer
ruffle,
Wid
ole bandanner,
30
Now
Ob
ponders
ties,
de
many broken
Fur de cabins all hab fallen, An' de big house layin' low
Is
de
hills
so fur erway
Is
When
An' de
de darkies
in
all
wuz
gay,
de quarters,
ones at play;
While de
ole plantation
women
wheel,
banjer
reel.
When de fiel's wuz white wid cotton, An de Hnt lak flakes ob snow,
Dey would hunt de
'Long de
'coon an' 'possum
hillside an'
de sho'.
Dar wuz dancin' in de quarters, At de party Sad'day night; Dar wuz meetin' day on Sunday, Fur ter git de members right.
An' de
fiddle an' de banjer
mighty temptin' t'ing; Fur de saint couldn' help f'um dancin' When de tune wuz on de string.
er
Wuz
Ob
Wuz
De
Dat de Scripturs fairly proves, Dat de earf is still er-standin' An' it is de sun dat moves.
Why
Dat de wurl' may know her wurf An' her men ob wit an' talent, Once de giants ob de earf?
32
She de mudder ob de Sou flan' She produce her highlan' braves, An' her mighty sons ob thunder,
Sleepin' in de silent graves
Once she
rose
wonders whur is Eph'am, Uucle Zeke an' little Ned? Dey hab lef dis wurl' ob bondage An' is free ermong de dead.
I
Now
Fur dey now hab crost de riber, Gone ter brighter wurl's on high An' de cabin's now deserted Fur de cabins in de sky.
I
callin',
years,
visions.
tears.
haunts
my
Makes my
eyes ter
fill
wid
33
We
shall
Who
was
distant lan's,
In de good Book
will
we
is tol'
be
jes' lak
Virginy
ol'.
In de golden days ob
34
; ;
; ;
4(
The New
the countries I
South."
earth,
Out
of
all
know on
Just give
me
my birth my choice
now
By her deep-flowing rivers and the ripple The wild honeysuckle as it now blooms,
Sheds
its
of her
rills.
tombs;
we
trust.
slave.
And
now
but a mound,
to the
ground
35
; ;
And when
And when
The
The
was doomed
to despair,
hw
with care;
down
in defeat,
feet.
shackles then
A "New
No more
The
rode.
To
lift
from the
Here buildings of
Their fair heads
lifting
The
fields that
were then
crimson main.
aloft their
bounteous grain
And
Now
tills
the ground.
Some mighty Homer from the South shall rise. Whose matchless verse shall cleave the skies
Shall sing an Iliad of
And
rival the
36
To Bishop
Of
the
Charles B. Galloway
M.
E. Church, South.
;
Heaven lent thee to earth, thy birth was divine Thy soul a jewel forever shall shine; Thou broughtest us message of Truth and of Love,
Now
A Prince has
His memory we cherish and reverence we pay His farne shall be reckoned with other great men.
While poets
shall praise
pen.
Ethiopia shall
mourn
Her Cause
in the
When
And
rude heel,
his appeal.
is
dead
fled.
With
who
of old
Have
37
On Er Sunday Down
On
I
in Dixie
er
Sunday down
in Dixie,
wuz on my way
I
to chu'ch,
er-singin'
When
Dat
It
hyeahed a gal
attract
f 'um
me bery much
er country cabin
was
Whur
she
made de music
I
ring
"
"Come dou
Wuz
And
de song
hyeahed her
sing,
she played
it
it
on er organ.
An'
floated
it
on de breeze.
soft
and sweetly,
trees;
fell
ermong de
its
An'
it
wound
lef
way
ter heaben,
Dar
But
it
mah
heart er-ringin'
Wid
38
;;
When
Hither by dy help I'll fly," Den I thought I hyeahed de angel F'um de cabins in de sky
Had
hyeahed dat gal er-singin' Ez her fingers touched de keys, Yo' would foun' yo'se'f er-weepin' Fallin' down on bended knees Prayin' ter de Lawd in heaben
yo'
Not
Tel de Holy Sperit blest yo' An' yo' learnt de song by heart.
When
Den
she got ter "Prone ter wander, Prone ter leabe de God I love;"
I
hollered
Thowed erway my
walkin' cane,
Ole A'nt Doshy, she got happy, An' dat music flung A'nt Jane.
39
; ;
sought
me
f'um God;"
got rehgion
de
Lawd
Den my
me
When
Ef
I
er stranger I
wuz
foun'.
When
She would make de heaben ring; An' dar Gabul den would listen Fur de angels would admire; Fur de music she wuz makin', Et would rival heaben's choir.
hab hyeahed de "Rock ob Ages" But de clifts too high fur me, When de fearful storm is ragin' On er midnight angry sea;
I
"Jesus lover ob
my
soul,
fly,"
Let
me
to
Dy bosom
When
40
Dese two songs is full ob music, But de songs I seldom sings; Whut's de use yo' start ter flyin'
When
"Come Dou fount ob ebery blessin'," Dat's when Jesus comes ter yo';
Yo' doan had ter go ter fin' Him When He comes ter look fur yo'.
41
Governor Blease
It
Is
Her
men
of great
renown"
us with a frown.
Or his heart with malice clad And speaking with profaning mouth, To crush the Negro in the South;
The
Fifteenth
Amendment
to appeal.
And
His doctrine
of inbred hate,
state.
Disfranchise us in ev'ry
And
yet
Or have we
Go,
let
42
Who
stood by
like
old,
When When
his
Cause dissevered
states,
?
longer mates
o'er
your land,
was
at her strand;
The surging
tides
went
rising high,
And
sable pall,
And
Her
war were
sent
And
Her
sympathy;
When
We
wept
And when
they
upon
their shield.
field.
from the
home and worked the farm, Your maid and wife we did not harm
stayed at
We
We
And
were ever
true.
Why How
to
harm a
race
in its
embrace?
in sable
arms
On
voice
Made
I
men
They should be
But hate and
strife
And
44
; ;
An' times
is gittin' cuis,
De
country's in er
'tall
muck;
struck!
Dar's nuthin'
er-doin',
ebenin'
eas'
When
Twenty-Eight went
De whistle blowed so lonesome Some t'ought she wuz er beas'. No freights er tall wuz runnin'
No baggage
struck."
45
Abraham Lincoln
Though a man of sorrows and of cares. He towered high above his peers A plain man from the prairies he An empire ruled from sea to sea. "He rose up like a Wormwood star,
Whose crimson
;" drew clouds of war He sent his armies on the plain, His war-ships on the briny main; He poured his legions on the foe,
trails
And made the earth with blood to flow. He heard the battle's clash and din. He heard the groans of dying men.
Divinely inspired he must have been
he lifted up his pen; must have been like Moses' rod, Directed by the hand of God For with one single mighty stroke,
It
When
The
Four million slaves were then set free, Four million born to liberty. The shouts of Freedom rang aloud,
Beneath dispersing battle-cloud,
48
And
Like the man of Galilee, He gave his life to make men free. His spirit leaving this earthly sod, Flew to the bosom of its God. When the days of strife are past, And gone the echo of bugle blast.
'
'
'
name
Upon enduring
scroll of
fame
'Mong the truly great of his country's men, Abe Lincoln shall be reckoned then.
49
The Old
Plantation Grave
Where our fathers bore their burdens, Where they sleep beneath the soil
And
Where the sugar cane did grow, Where they till the corn and cotton,
In the years of long ago
;
the slave,
an humble grave.
50
Ethiopia
Ethiopia shall sing of the fading years, In the dim distance of her long, long past Her history is written in blood and in tears. The chain whose fetters held her bound so long, Is broken, and free, she springs forth with joy and
with song.
Her
ancient glory
is
No more
And
from
its gall
and
its
pain.
51
Who
De
By
An'
ole
Peter
Wuz
like ter
who
Peter wuz,
know
'Bout
how many
wuz
crow
An' brudder Samul, he went an' got de fam'ly Bible, An' said he knowed de Scripture alius is reli'ble. He commenced er-readin' whur de rooster he crowed twice, While Peter wuz er-cussin' lak er man shootin' dice. When he finished readin', he said, "Brudders, take it now," An' I wish yo' could hyeahed whut a great big row. When some ob dem said dat Peter wuz er Jew, Ole brudder Adams got mighty blue. He grab hoi' de Bible from Samuel's han', An' said he sho' could fin' dat Peter wuz er Cullud man. Jes' 'bout dat time brudder Thacker riz up, An' all at once de mighty arguin' stop. He sez ter de brudder: "Ise no edercated man. But de Bible is er book I kin well undertan' An' who Peter wuz, I knows mighty well. Dat Peter wuz er White man, yo' easy kin tell Had he been er Nigger, he neber would erlowed Ter hyeah er rooster crowin' and stayed in er crowd Befo' de rooster had crowed twice, he'd er had 'im in er sack. An' down de road been flyin' wid er chicken on his back."
52
ringin',
Am
An'
tumblin' in decay;
ole-time dwellers
all its
Hab gone
de
silent
way.
Dey voices hushed in silence, De cabin drear an' lone An' dey who used ter lib hyeah Long sense is dead an' gone.
53
Dey bones
is
in
de graveyard,
Beneaf de wilier tree; Done lef dis wurl' ob bondage, Death onjy made 'em free.
Done
An' soared
on high;
54
#/
De Cabin By de Riber
Whur settin'
Ez
sunbeams lingers Under sky ob red an' gold, On de banks ob S'wanee riber,
er cabin drear an' old.
whur my
frien's an'
kindred
lubbed in day. b yore, Libbed tel toils and cyahs wuz ^nded, An' dey crost de yudder shore.
I
55
Dey bones
is
in
de graveyard,
Beneaf de wilier tree; Done lef dis wurl' ob bondage, Death onjy made 'em free.
Done
An' soared
on high
54
De Cabin By
Under sky ob red
de Riber
an' gold,
in t'ought I
wanner
De
tears
come
Hyeah
Dat
is
whur my
frien's an'
kindred
Libbed tel toils and cyahs wuz nded, An' dey crost de yudder shore.
55
Booker T. Washington
Surely he was of miraculous birth, The most wonderous son Ham has on earth Born in Virginia, the land of the brave.
In lowly cabin, cradled a slave.
Thou, Oh Virginia, the mother of great men. Who shook the Nation with their voice and pen, The land where statesmen and warriors were born,
Gave
by grim Oppression's Law, he slept on a pallet of straw from the fetters of bondage and But he rose
strife,
And sought the realms of a nobler Hfe; And challenged the world with the fiat of thought, And carved his own way by the deeds that he
wrought.
He
He
The
genius and marvel of this great age; yoked grim fate to his chariot's wheels.
56
While thus he fills the great Douglass' place, And becomes a Moses to lead his Race,
He
thirst,
"Let
down your
with might the Industrial Rock, like Moses, he waters his flock;
buildings
Has made Tuskegee the marvel of all eyes. Where her broad acres spread, and her fair
rise.
She stands as
sentinel of Right
and of Truth,
A
Ye
fair
Teach your little son his footsteps to trace. Bid them to soar high and his height to And follow the steps of this Godlike man.
57
The Sunset
Rosy red
horizon,
The
I
Arrayed
know no angel painter Could make such gorgeous dyes As are flung upon the heavens
In yon bright western skies.
me
When
Or
growing old
yonder sun is setting In tints of mellow gold, Each evening has its lessons, Which Nature's books unfold. Which teach us that our lives, When ebbing fast away.
When
May
58
Brur
Tom
an' de
New
Parson
How does yo' do, Brur Parson ? How is yo' been gittin' 'long ?
mighty thirsty sermon an' er song. De man we had fur er preacher, He wuzn't bery much; Dat wuz de only reason
Ise been
Fur
er
I didn't 'ten' de chu'ch, Do' Ise been er Mefodis' Eber sense Ise been bo'n, An' when I leaves dis wurl'
But some de niggers sez Dat Ise done fell f 'um grace But fur forty long year Ise been runnin dis race. Dese niggers is mighty cuis,
Doan
lak er
man
dat's straight;
(Not
news)
59
De man we had fur er preacher Jes' gib me downright blues. Well? I'se hyeahed de new preacher; He seem lak de man fur dis place;
He
many years But when dat man wuz preachin' Her cheeks wuz baved in tears. An' ole man 'Zekiel Reynolds
Th'owed 'way his walkin' cane; A'nt Doshy she got happy, An' den he got A'nt Jane.
(Three Months Later.) Why, chile, I hyeahed er whisper GwiHe 'roun' in de air, All erbout de new parson An' chile, I jes' declare! Why, ain't yo' hyeahed de lates' Erbout Brur Parson Jones? I hates so bad ter tell yo* Ontel et brings de groans. Doshy wuz hyeah dis mawnin' 'Fo' I wuz out de bed; De t'ings dat 'oman tol' me Done lak ter kill me dead
60
'Twuz
all
Who
An'
'fo'
Down
on de
flo'
I fainted.
Ef Mandy hadn'
I 'spec' I'd
stop her,
an' died.
up
said de Parson
Doan
But de
6i
Ise
Yazoo County,
Whilr I knows I'll git er plenty, An' lib widout er fear. Eber fu'nace done quit runnin', I cain't hyeah er whistle blow
De
obens dey
is all
stop bu'nin',
starvation's at
my
do'.
House-rent
tol'
yistidday,
'em boaf perlitely, Dar wuz nuffin' hyeah ter do Ef dey wanted any money,
Take de house an' fu'n'ture 'long; Fur de times is mighty squally, White folks' bizness done gone wrong.
I ez
Whur
'Way down
Yazoo County,
Whur
Yo' may talk erbout de country. An' may say no libbin' dar;
62
Let
me
tell
yo' now,
mah
honey,
Dar
An' de good
ole
'possum meat,
An' yo' knows how I would eat! Ise gwine back ter Yazoo County;
It is
Dar
is
An' her
I
slumbers dar.
in Jeff'son
County,
Now
Wunst
An'
I
had er good
lubbed
it
religion,
bery much;
Fur
wuz de
I
bigges' deacon
hab done
los' it;
Wunst
When
Ise
I gits ter
Yazoo County,
Yazoo County,
is.
gwine back
ter
63
Dar I'll meet my chillun dear; Fur it iz mah earfly Canaan; Dar is whur mah kindred dwell; Dar is now mah deares' neighbors
Jeff 'son County, fare yo' well!
64
President
Taf
an' de
Gawgy
'Possum
White
folks at de
White House,
Dey lub de 'possum meat! Taf come down in Gawgy, See how dat 'possum eat.
Clevelan' lub de duck-pon',
De
'Tis er
meat
dat's
mighty
rar';
Fur Taf ez down in Gawgy, An' ain't got none ter spar'.
6s
I t'inks
we
all
'11
like
Taf
ter
He*s not er
man
fur style,
meet him,
He
De
'Tis er
meat
dat's
mighty
rar'
Fur Taf ez down in Gawgy, An' ain't got none ter spar'.
freedom
it
by;
Now
An'
it
'tis
De
'Tis er
meat
dat's
mighty
rar';
Fur Taf ez down in Gawgy, An' ain't got none ter spar'.
66
at
Santiago
know
the Negro,
tell,
How
How
the South.
Who
lately freed;
And
sable hue!
to battle.
67
On
palmy plains of Cuba, With the proud Castilian blood, Sleep America's dusky warriors, Swept away by battle flood; In the Cuban trenches gory, With the gallant Maceo, With the Yankee and the Southern, With the Cuban and his foe.
the
68
Its
Past
I sing
Their fond devotion, and great sacrifice; song of the oHve, the type of reHef,
And
emblem of
grief.
The crisis at present is enough to amend. About the dead past why pause to contend? The problem before us has changed since then; They solved with the sword, but we with the pen. The victory achieved by the pen that we wield. More enduring is this than the sword on the field.
Let the past be past, and the dead be dead. Or what of their burdens, and the tears that they shed? Or what of their poverty, or what of their pain? Or what of their bondage, or what of their chain?
Since Death has
summoned
The great and the small are alike in the grave; The master who lived in luxury and mirth, The slave who toiled in poverty from birth; They both have found a common reward, When summoned to judgment before the same Lord.
69
Sherman's March
He comes! he comes! He calls himself the
The roar of
battle is
to the
Sea
thousands sleep beneath the sod. The screaming fife and sounding drums, And tramping feet are heard afar,
And
of burning homes.
fill
And
'Tis
streaming banners,
the
air.
Sherman marching
to the sea.
His martial host is passing by. He sets the dusky bondsman free. The captive slaves no longer sigh; But anxious harps from willows take. With melody embalmed with tears; The Southern plains with music wake,
The bondsmen cast away their cares. 'Tis Sherman marching to the sea; The bondsmen join the gallant throng, With jubilant shouts of liberty.
Old Plantation song. He's marching, marching to the sea; And no one dares to check his raid;
sing the
And
70
His watchword, "On to Victory," Or else his sword will'^ne'er^be staid; He sweeps along through Georgia's plain, Where widows weep and orphans sigh;
Their loved ones fall in battle slain, Beneath the azure Southern sky.
And
still
swarm on
With
Plundering, flanking, fighting, too. But still he's marching to the sea.
He's marching there to bathe his sword Within the proud Atlantic wave. And cut asunder slavery's cord, The wide, deep sea to be its grave.
71
Ode
Women
publishing this
of the Confederacy
NOTEThe Rome
Tribune-Herald,
under the heading "An Unusual Production," commented as follows: "An unusual type of Negro has recently arrived in Rome and taken up his work as pastor of Holsey Temple, C. M. E. Church. This is the little church at Broad and Ross streets, and the Negro is Sterling Means, a well-educated man, not large in stature and not bold in appearance, quite different from the average Negro preacher type of fiction, and often of fact, that is large, well-fed, and clothed in a lengthy broadcloth coat. White people who have heard Means preach say he is a natural orator, such as his race sometimes produces, and that when he gets to 'going good' he can almost outpreach anything in these parts, with a wealth of fervid simile and apt illustration. Be that as it may. Means is a poet of no small ability, as Romans can judge for themselves. He had written an ode to the statue erected to the honor of the Women of the Confederacy, which is far above the average of the poetry that usually finds its way to a newspaper office. The production is unusually creditable."
In the
poem
as published below,
it is
some
slight revisions
have
hoped
will render
it all
an ode to widows, Of the men who wore the "Gray," And to brave Confed'rate mothers,
I shall sing
their sons
away
72
With
the watch-word,
"On
to Victory,
Or
Who made
For
their
men
Romans,
When their land was in despair; When the shades of want and carnage
Swung her sable curtains low. And the music heard in Dixie,
Was
It
was then
Smothered back the welling sigh, And upon her country's altar. Gave son and husband both to die.
On
.
When
While they died to Then a cry was heard in Dixie, Rachel weeping for her sons And her wails would not be solaced, Till had ceased the belching guns. What if verse were set to measure.
ago,
73
Would
it tell
And
woe?
Could the
be told in marble,
With the touch of Phidas' hand, Like the Statue of Athena, Once the pride of Grecian land? Would the Statue of Athena,
In the land of Pericles,
Would
With As she
it
vie a
Southern mother,
battle.
him of the
Of
While she weeps and wails and shudders, With a courage yet undaunt? Never was such fond devotion, Comes a soldier from the field, And his mother gives him water When "returned upon his shield." Not to men of Stonewall Jackson, Not to men who followed Lee; Not to those who impeded Sherman, As he marched on to the sea. Not the tale of Lookout Mountain, With its cannon pealing loud.
Where
That was known above the cloud. Not the far-famed Chickamauga,
74
Where
It
a thousand heroes
fell;
was there they fought like demons, For they charged the brinks of hell;
at Gettysburg,
And
have mercy! Oh, the deeds committed there! For the souls of those poor victims. Went to God without a prayer. But the warrior's mighty valor, 'Mid the battle smoke and flame.
Have been
told
by epic
poets.
And their deeds are known to fame. So I sing of Southern women. With their little ones at home And my And
ode
is
to the Statue
That stands
there, too,
to
On
the
At the Big House rocked the cradle, With her strong and sable arm;
was ever
true;
Should the bard forget to praise her. Then his muse would cease to sing,
On
the willow
its
hang
his lyre.
From
75
While
I read the
I
grand
inscription,
As
Far as human eye could see," And I saw a mighty vision, What a wonder it might be,
Of
the
Woman's
Suffrage Question,
If the law would give them votes, They would soon disband the armies;
sound of war's wild notes Would then be heard the barracks empty,
;
No
Hushed
No need to study war again. And the war-like sons of Nippon, And the Russian would agree; And the hostile dreadnought navies
Would forever quit the sea. And the Anglo-Saxon Lion
Then would
rest
And
Would not harm the valley's dove. Then would Europe's warring nations
With each other soon
agree,
And
76
Would no
And
And
They would
For the cause they would adhor, Never would devoted mothers
Train their sons for savage war.
And the rose of Sharon bloom, And the lily of the valley
Its
And the lion and the leopard And the lamb together feed; And beside the stream and brooklet, Them a little child would lead, And the white man with his burden, And the Negro with his care. And the yellow with his peril. Would a common justice share.
77
Lee
to the
Rear"
"At the battle of Spottsylvania, the Confederate troops being in the fog of the morning, the Federals made an attack upon them while at breakfast, captured three thousand prisoners, including two generals and officers. Lee formed a line in the rear and led the charge in person. General Gordon seized his reins, saying: 'General Lee to the rear; this is no place for you, go to the rear!' and the cry ran down the whole line, 'Lee to the
rear!'"
With
With
is
made,
and cannonade,
flashing steed,
in speed;
unchecked
And Gordon
there
is
For such a
leader, so tried
and
true.
When along the whole line the cry is heard. And down the long line they rend the air
With
the shout of the
men
78
"Lee
to the rear
!"
As
men
are advancing
The
soldiers shout:
"Lee
to the rear!"
Lee mounts
his charger
and begins
to ride,
As he hurls on the foe his legions gray, The Nation's pillars quake and sway.
"God
save the Union!"
is
79
The
task
is
done.
No
The
wild din
is
heard no more;
They hang
Nor hasten again to the bugle's loud call; The musket and sword are red ^with rust
And banners flung high now. trail in the dust. No charge goes ringing along the whole line, No shells are shivering the rank and pine; No more shall flow the war-wrung tear, No soldier shout "Lee to the rear !"
:
The
No
The mocking-bird
mouth,
And twitters her carols of Peace to the South; No pickets along the Blueridge height. No hero fresh from the field of fight.
The
shouts of freedom from Dixie arise,
And the green of the earth greets the blue of the skies; No more does the war-cloud its shadows cast here,
The Blue and
the
to the rear
80
Who
was
right or
wrong?
Or what of his tribe, his creed or his tongue? The North and the South honor him as one, The Flower of Chivalry, the South's noblest son.
gloom and defeat his cause went down, Yet forever he wears a hero's crown; In the Hall of Fame, his statue is there. And no one shouts "Lee to the rear I"
in
:
Though
8i
Tallulah Falls
'Matchless Tallulah
From
Where the voice of nature speaks. From the ancient rocks of Rabun, Where Tallulah reigns as queen. The Niagara of the Southland,
With a grand majestic
'Tis the voice of
scene.
God
in nature.
Where
There amid the scenic wonders, With the music of their roar. Oh, thou grand and fair Tallulah!
Georgia's
women weep
for thee;
And
heard their
plea.
In the
Land
falls
of
Henry Grady,
And
"New
South,"
Are the
of fair Tallulah,
82
As
May
'Tis
her stream
roll
on forever!
Who
May
would dare to stay her tide? the hand of God's own power,
her
falls fore'er
abide!
Should the men of pride and money, Cease the songs of God to raise, Let the streams from rocks and mountains, Shout the anthems of his praise. May the hand that would pollute her. For the sake of selfish gain;
May that hand forget its "cunning," And its efforts die in vain.
Shall the
men
And
When
calls;
in
Georgia?
On
When
was tested; Are they not the same today? From the ancient rocks of Rabun,
their valor then
83
And
the
men who
followed Lee.
With her
cataracts sublime,
She withstood the shock of ages, And survived the wrecks of time. Built upon her throne of granite. Fashioned by Jehovah's hand;
She, the fairest
Queen
in Georgia,
And
Where
When
From
When
It
was then her virgin waters Anthem'd with the "Morning Stars;" She is haunted with tradition, She is laureled with the years.
has sung in
all
And
the ages.
With
Thund'ring down her rocky gorges, She flings out a silver mist. And reflects the rainbow colors, 'Mid the cliflfs of amethyst; Leaping rapid, but not madly,
84
is
to please;
And
Are sublimer than the seas; With a thousand harps in nature, With their major, minor keys,
She is God's majestic organ. His eternal melodies.
8s
The Monument
Written in honor of the
at
Antietam
Jersey soldiers.
New
battle ground,
soldiers bled,
monument
of 'Hampshire's stone
Was
They
For which each gave his life. Whose spirits now have gone to God, Where never cometh strife.
Upon
honored battle ground. Far from their loved ones dear, There many fell with bleeding wound,
that
No
They
homes
dusky
To
free the
slave,
As warriors
86
the sand,
won
At eve
of heaven shone
dead.
And
shafts.
The deeds
like
famed Thermopyle's
pass,
Of
87
They hastened
And
They charged
The
gifted
muse
in matchless verse.
Shall
make
Of
spot,
Where
fell
And fame
steed
And
To
They wrought
They changed
Which was
burning pen.
88
And
that
New Hampshire
tell,
granite stone,
Long
The
When men
story of
has flown,
89
Norf
Car'lina,
Fur
Ise
it
is
my
native State;
ole
gwine leabe
Alerbamer
Fur
my
fortune er
my my
fate,
longin',
burden ob
sigh;
Ober dar de
But de
t'ings is changin',
riber ain't
gone dry.
Et may be de
ole plantation
all
An' de cabin's
erlone,
Dat
will
make me
I sho'
cry an'
moan;
Dar's a t'ing
kin 'member
tie,
Which
An'
et
survives de broken
Dat de
gone dry.
90
'member dat ole elm tree, Whur it stood upon de bank; An' erlong de swampy bottom Whur de weeds grew tall an' rank But dat elm tree may hab fallen, Dyin' wid de years gone by; But de sparklin' stream is flowin', Fur de riber ain't gone dry.
I kin
Den
I wunner whur A'nt Martha, Uncle Zeke an' little Ned? Dey hab lef dis world ob bondage. An' is free ermong de dead; An' dey sperits gone ter heaben, Ter de cabins in de sky; But de stream will flow fureber. Fur de riber ain't gone dry.
An' I wunner whur de Big House Fur ole marster he is gone. An' ole mistus an' de chillun,
Dey wuz
But soon
lef dar
all
erlone?
follered;
atter
did,
him dey
Ez dey
we
all
mus' die;
91
stands in contemplation,
Temple of Rameses,
civilization,
Egypt
in her
faded glory,
Once
Where
Apd
mighty kingdoms
died.
He
greatness,
shadows cast;
Where
And
92
And And a
her throne
is
in the dust;
When
It shall
kingdom
is
unjust
crumble
in the dust.
It is
And
The Rameses of
And
the wrecks of
human
greatness,
cast.
With
their evening
shadows
93
say,
Er who
is
I tells yo'
weak when
an'
who
is
strong;
yo' wife is
mad,
shoes.
Et keeps
When
Den
Sunday
yo'
blues
Th'ows
pans eroun'.
Den
'oman sholy blue! Boy, go fetch dat ole gray mule; Ain't no time fer me ter fool, Fur I sho' mus' go ter town.
Chile, dat
de streets ter stan' eroun', Tel some one I chance ter meet;
On
I will
greet
Wid de quaint ole-fashion bow. When yo' wife begin ter row,
An' yo' lef her kin' er cross, I hyeahs yo' say: ''Good mawnin', boss!
94
ter
made me
cuss;
Lak Lak
ter flung
ter lose
some shoes. Fur my wife is got de blues. An' whut de problem is, my chile, Is women keepin' up wid style. Tez er shame an' downright scan'l; Some women's pow'ful hard ter han'le
!"
95
To
Thou
dews of heaven were fresh on thy wing; Thou sweet singer, just flown from thy nestling, A Message of Truth and of Love to bring; Song of a race whose freedom's just dawning, Song of its trials and the nights of its wrongs, That lighten its burdens till it ceases repining,
Finding a solace in melodious song.
When
Thou sweet
singer,
we
And
ringing;
Love and
in Peace.
96
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