Part 5

Now, gents, stop your blushing; I did not intend To step on the toes of a single male friend. Your modesty might personalities dread, So I will say that this model depicted--_is dead_.

THE STRICKEN SOUTH.

[SUMMER OF 1878.]

The pestilence that gaunt and grim Stalks through our sunny land, Leaves traces marked with misery In many a broken band; It scatters friends and severs ties, And makes whole cities wail, Neglected dead unburied lies To tell the mournful tale.

One fickle moon has scarcely passed Since first that blighting blow Crushed hopes of years--all aims of life Seemed paralyzed with woe; Bereavement, blight, and bitterness Reign o’er our stricken land, And leave the lone and desolate Beside their dead to stand.

Their sunny skies in beauty smile O’er scores of scenes of woe, And seem to mock the misery The fatal records show; Dread burdens every waft of breeze Which pestilence imparts; The very balmy air they breathe Brings poison to their hearts.

Their streets deserted, kindred fled, All busy life is still; Their household gods all scattered lie Before death’s dauntless will; A grave-like silence reigns supreme, No sound but moans and sighs That echoes on the quiet air As some new victim dies.

Fond lips that prayed but yesterday Around the social hearth, Are closed in death’s oblivion And mute to sounds of earth; Babes and mothers rest as one Beneath the silent sod, Together summoned sire and son Before the bar of God.

For bleeding hearts and stricken homes We plead thy pitying care, And beg for mercy at thy will, Oh, God! hear thou our prayer; Relent, and stay the messenger That lurks at every door; Retard his ruthless ravages And health and hope restore.

“IF EVER I CEASE TO LOVE.”

Then let the sun with rosy light No longer shine, nor moon by night Her mellow rays around, above, Illume--if I should cease to love.

May starry heights grow dim and dark, In absence of that heavenly spark, All Nature’s gems in skies above Suspend--if I should cease to love.

May dancing rills and crystal brooks Rejoice no more mid shady nooks, Nor wind in glee through moonlit grove Or glen--if I should cease to love.

Without this magic spark divine To warm and cheer this heart of mine, Nor earth beneath nor heaven above, Could compensate for loss of love.

The moon and stars, the sun and air, The joyous birds and flowers rare, All to me would worthless prove, If ever I should cease to love.

This lovely land, these sunny skies, No charm would have for loveless eyes, No song from hall or sight from grove Enchant--if I should cease to love.

AN APPEAL FOR THE MEMPHIS ORPHANS.

[_Recited at the St. Paul’s Children’s Social by Joe. E. Young, 1878._]

We are happy to meet you, In gladness we greet you, A welcome to all we extend; Your happy, bright faces Show nothing but traces Which kindness and charity lend.

While we revel in pleasure, Let’s try in a measure To remember our brothers abroad, Who are suffering and sighing, And in misery crying, For comforts they can not afford.

One short, fatal season Has given them reason For deploring their sorrows for years; Taken father and mother, And sister and brother, And left them alone in their tears.

With no one to love them But the Father above them, No home but the one in the skies; No hope for the morrow To soften their sorrow, No mother to quiet their cries.

To the cold care of strangers, And the world’s many dangers, Their lot in the future is cast: They will miss every hour The sweet, soothing power Of the love that now lives in the past.

So, comrades, we pray you, Let no motive stay you From helping the orphans in need; Their friends are all taken, Their homes all forsaken, Their childhood’s a desert indeed.

WAITING FOR FROST.

In the silence of night, In the dullness of day, When disease and distress Hold pre-eminent sway; The sad, stricken souls In their misery tossed, Now yearningly sigh For the coming of frost.

The friends and afflicted Watch evening and morn, For a waft of cool breeze, That a hope may be borne To the souls of the sighing, Whose life it may cost, This continued and fatal Delay of the frost.

Their hopes still deferred Each day brings regret, While the suffering die, And the end is not yet. Fond wish of the weary, Chilled, blighted, and crossed, Each day disappointed, In the coming of frost.

By the bed of the dying, By the side of the bier, The bereaved ones sit sighing In sorrow and fear; And others, deserted, In agony tossed On their feverish couch Are praying for frost.

Oh, who can half measure The sorrow and gloom That enshrouds our fair land Like a dark, dreary tomb. May God in his mercy, Ere hope is all lost, Relentingly hasten The coming of frost.

MEMPHIS, _Oct. 1878_.

OCTOBER.

October winds are softly sighing Through the stately oaks and pines, Autumn leaves are wildly flying As all nature now declines; Brightly through the varied branches Breaks the slanting autumn sun, And chirping through the thinning bushes See the swallows homeward come.

As I watch decaying nature That surrounds our rural home, Revel in these autumn glories, Listen to the soft wind’s moan. See the leaves from green to golden Change their summer hue and fall, The flowers fade, the branches wither, It seems the “common lot of all.”

In life we find a fleeting springtime, Rife with fancy’s wildest dream, But giving early place to summer, Which with ripened beauties teem; Then comes autumn, sober autumn, Roses scattered, hopes decayed, When spring dreams and summer beauty With life’s flowery fancies fade.

But the pensive, sad reflections, Musing on those autumn days, Imparts to us a saddened pleasure, Surrounds our life with gentle haze; Takes us through the faded flowers, Crushed and scattered ’neath our tread; Leads us through forsaken bowers, Shows us nature withered--dead.

“OAKLAWN,” Memphis, Tenn.

GEO. FRANCIS TRAIN,

THE WILD WIT OF THE DAY.

Variable, versatile, stormy, and wild, At times we’re entranced, and then again riled At his wayward remarks and blustering strain, Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train.

Original ever his words and his ways, But orthodox seldom in aught that he says; His fancy, so fertile, takes many a flight, But leaves Truth and Religion quite out of sight.

Ambitious, progressive, political scion, Reminding us oft of a wild, roaring lion, Uncaged and untamed in a woody domain, A manner peculiar to Geo. Francis Train.

His lectures all seem so wild and erratic, His manner, at times, so raving, dramatic, In a whirlwind of passion he prances and strides, Then subdues--and his rage into poetry glides.

A perfect enigma, and a genius as well, A tornado, a storm, and then comes a spell Of brightness and sunshine, ’mid thunder and rain, Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train.

Ambitious of honors, position and fame, Determined to win a notorious name, His wish, you will see, in every oration, Is deathless desire to govern the nation!

To help on his cause, he solicits the aid Of all colors and sexes and sorts ever made; Generous indeed--he’s the workingman’s friend! To hear him--he has only a dollar to spend!

Glorious republic! If the prophecy ’s true, When Train is elected--we’ll have nothing to do But enjoy perfect peace abroad and at home, The nation will think the millennium ’s come!

WASHINGTON’S BIRTHDAY.

As years roll on and ages pass, This name of martial glory Leaves traces on the calendar, Which tell the yearly story Of this our “prince of patriots’” birth, The bravest, boldest, best of earth, Whose mighty will and warrior worth Won battles great and gory.

It tells of valor long since gone, Of victories commended, Of wonders seen and wonders told, Of buried braves and heroes bold, Cast in nature’s choicest mold, Now on earth’s bosom blended.

We sigh in sadness o’er the wreck Of this historic season, We’d have its pleasures all return, We’d have its patriot bosoms burn, We’d have our nation ever spurn The slightest trace of treason.

We’d wander through memorial halls In quest of antique treasures, We’d linger round those storied walls, Renewing bygone pleasures, And wishing for that olden time, When our dead hero, in his prime, Contested unjust measures.

We’d hear of battles lost and won, Of dangers braved and ended, We’d hear of patriots, long since gone, Whom nature most intended To live in fame and memory Throughout a long eternity.

We’d have our sainted warrior’s name, So famed in song and story, And rendered to our memories dear By records of its glory, Kept green on history’s sacred pages, From now throughout the lapse of ages.

ADIEU TO “MY DEAR FIVE HUNDRED.”

We seldom see a preface in the back of a book, or a frontispiece in the middle, but as I have always been considered a little eccentric, I will make a new departure, and thank my indulgent readers here for their patient perusal of these pages. I locate these honeyed words in the rear as a reward of merit to any one that is martyr enough to reach them by the regular route, and those that have not energy and endurance enough to do so deserve to lose these chunks of wisdom and words of cheer. In the preceding poems are depicted sentiments to suit my changing moods; streaks of mirth and wails of misery; childhood’s mischief and woman’s woe; a mixture of ecstasy and agony, to suit “the gay or the grave, the lively or severe.” Now, should they fail to find a responsive echo in my readers’ hearts, then is “Othello’s occupation gone,” and I will fold my hands, dry my quill, dismiss my muse, and write no more.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.

Poetic contractions have been treated consistently. Common contractions with is or has [such as she’s, there’s, that’s] have no space, but less common ones have retained the space usually but not always found in the original book [such as night ’s, turn ’s, mine ’s].

The space has been removed from other common phrases with contractions, for example ’T was has been changed to ’Twas, can ’t has been changed to can’t.

Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.

Table of Contents: ‘My Childhood’ replaced by ‘My Infancy’. Pg 10: ‘Another seige was’ replaced by ‘Another siege was’. Pg 13: ‘towsled hair’ replaced by ‘tousled hair’. Pg 53: ‘My trosseau’ replaced by ‘My trousseau’. Pg 55: ‘A could not see’ replaced by ‘I could not see’. Pg 56: ‘It made be overrate’ replaced by ‘It made me overrate’. Pg 92: ‘He wooes this’ replaced by ‘He woos this’. Pg 94: ‘with gilded mein’ replaced by ‘with gilded mien’. Pg 109: ‘pretty dame Stone’s is’ replaced by ‘pretty dame Stone is’. Pg 128: ‘sober sedatenees’ replaced by ‘sober sedateness’. Pg 140: ‘In absense of that’ replaced by ‘In absence of that’.