Part 2

I’ll ne’er forget the day, When I was young and gay, A rolling ’round the floor in Tennessee; From th’ cotton field so white, My ma would come at night, And fondly hold me in her arms and say:

Go to sleep, baby mine, Little birdie in your nest; Humming bees have left the vine, Go to sleep and take your rest.

In winter cold and chill, At night, when all was still, I’d wake to find her standing over me, A smile upon her face, A creepin ’round the place, She’d tuck the cover over me, and sing:

Go to sleep, baby mine, Little birdie in your nest; Humming bees have left the vine, Go to sleep and take your rest.

So many years have passed, Since we assembled last, That dear old soul has gone away to dwell. If this whole world was mine, The wealth I would decline, If I could only hear my mother sing:

Go to sleep, baby mine, Little birdie in your nest; Humming bees have left the vine, Go to sleep and take your rest.

GOD BLESS OUR COUNTRY.

God bless our home, land of the free, And those who rule, who e’er they be; Protect the flag, and let it wave Over all free men, not the slave. May we, dear Lord, sustain its name; Forbid that it shall trail in shame; To those who from oppression flee May this, our land, a refuge be.

May we sustain all we profess; Forbid that we should man oppress; May we accept fraternal love And live as we must live above.

TRUE LOVE.

How true, dear, my love is; Too great to compare, Truer than the stars, That shoot from their sphere; Think how the sun sets And withdraws its light; Think how I love thee Alone in the night. Think of its rising, How it varies in time; Oh! there is no varying In this heart of mine. True as a rock, then-- How could I this say When softest of waters Can wear stone away? Even time must change To eternity. Oh! there is no changing In my love for thee. True as eternity! No, it’s not begun; All must start even When a race is to run. When old eternity Becomes mossy and gray, Then, dear, I’ll love thee The same as to-day. Fear not that pale death Will drift us apart; Ah! death cannot sever The love in my heart. When we reach heaven We shall find our own; I’m told we will know there As we are known.

WEEP NOT.

Weep not, friend, o’er your condition, He who tries can find a way; Labor, and to God petition, Strive, and you will rise some day.

Let your steps be sure and steady, Push ahead and never stop; Though the field seems filled already, There is room still at the top.

If you wish to climb life’s ladder, Start to climb it from the ground; If great your strength it makes it sadder To have to climb it round by round.

MEMORY OF W. W. BROWN.

Dear father Brown, the great, the good, The noble leader of our race; With task complete his spirit fled, To heaven, its final resting place, And there in peace it shall remain, Securely wrapped from care and pain; His body ’neath sweet roses sleeps, An angel o’er him vigil keeps.

Weeping for one so dearly loved, Too soon it seems we had to part; To see him hid beneath the clay, Sharp sorrow fills the aching heart, It seems I see him on the stand, Fain I could hear him give command; And with his outstretched, loving arm, Imploring people to reform.

Think of the great work he has done, Behold the great reformer’s hand; Ten thousand marching to and fro, To seek, to help, to lend a hand, Thy life has not been spent in vain, Thy deeds are monuments of fame; Thy name from earth will ne’er depart, ’Tis graved with kindness on the heart.

No more to meet us here on earth, The noble impulse thou hast given; Will urge us on the mighty course, Until we, too, are called to heaven. Beneath the clods is it the last, Oh, no, the memory of the past; As Bethlehem star the wise men led, His light will lead us though he is dead.

WHEN DE SUN SHINES HOT.

No, dere ain’t no use er workin’ in de blazin’ summertime, Whin de fruit hab filled de orchard, an’ de burries bend de vine; Der’s enuf ter keep us libin’ in de little gyarden spot, An’ der aint no use’n workin’ w’en de sun shines hot.

Fur I’ze read it in de Bible ’bout de lilies how dey grow, It was put in der er purpus dat de workin’ men mout know, Dat dis diggin’ an er grabben, wusn’t men’t in our lot, An’ der ain’t no use’n workin’ we’n de sun shines hot.

Does yer heer de streams er callin’ az it cralls erlong de rill; Does yer se de vines er wavin’, biddin’ me ter kum an’ fill? Whar’s m’ hook and line--say, Hannah, give me all de bait yer got, Fur der ain’t no use’n workin’ w’en de sun shines hot.

Des ’bout dark I kum hum, strollin’ wid a binch er lubly trout; Hannah she c’mmence er grinnin’ little Rastus ’gin to shout; Soon de hoecake is er bakin’, fish er fryin’, table sot. No, der ain’t no use’n workin’ w’en de sun shines hot.

EXPERIENCE.

They told me that the path I took was hard, That many a time my weary feet would bleed; They said at last I’d find my way was barred; I would not heed.

They bade me stop and go the other way; This path, they said, Fate thorns and thistles strew; But I was young, Ambition led the way; I thought I knew.

But when my bleeding feet came to the end, And I was bound and scourged by cruel Fate; Alas, I cried, pray let me start again; It was too late.

SUCCESS.

Success is a light upon the farther shore, That shines in dazzling splendor to the eye, The waters leap, the surging billows roar, And he who seeks the prize must leap and try.

A mighty host stand trembling on the brink, With anxious eyes they yearn to reach the goal. I see them leap, and, ah! I see them sink-- As gazing on dread horror fills my soul!

Yet to despair I can but droop and die, ’Tis better far to try the lashing deep. I much prefer beneath the surge to lie, Than death to find me on this bank asleep.

DEFEATED.

Vain and defeated each effort of life, Feeble and hoary, sick of the strife, But yet in my bosom a spirit says, “rise,” A voice calling onward out of the skies.

Though wounded in battle, bleeding I lay, I hear the voice calling, and strive to obey. And make my last effort the battle to gain; Ah! death is upon me, I struggle in vain.

I SHALL SUCCEED.

I shall succeed, although Fate rules to-day, And heaps up thorns and thistles in my way. I bear the yoke and tread them with a smile, For I am sure it is but for awhile.

Each day that dawns I strive to break the chain, Although to-day it seems so massive strong; Although it seems my labors are in vain, I’ll strive and wait, it matters not how long.

For like the drip that falls upon the millstone, So soft it strikes at first it seems but play; But drip on drip a tiny dent will come-- We turn at length and find it washed away.

Thus will I beat Fate’s chains, though strokes be feeble, To hasty men it all may seem but play. The hand of man though soft as drops is able, To wear at length the hardest stone away.

THE ROSY DAWN.

From out the rosy dawn the sun comes forth; See, love, what robes of splendor dawns the sea! So is my soul hallowed with joy and love, Gleaming from thee.

For, when at morn I stroll along the path, There I behold thy beauty from afar; And, like the rosy dawn, it fills my soul; I stand in awe.

Look, love, the rosy scene is in the West! And soon this world shall be in solemn night. So will my soul if thou shouldst, like the sun, Withdraw your light.

A SONG OF LOVE.

A song I sing a blessing so divine, Which all can feel yet no one can define; It comes like hallowed glory from above, We feel the joy and call the blessing love.

Just as we know when zephyr’s in the rye, We cannot see, still how we mark their way; Just so it is when love meets you and me-- We bend and sway.

For who can hide the love that’s in his breast? He only feels, though known by all the rest; For when love comes the gall is changed to sweet, It brought the valiant Hector to its feet.

Just as love brought the heroes kneeling down, She leads the world quite gently with her sway, No need of lash--just simply smile or frown-- We will obey.

Yes, love can lead her victim just at will; Greater the pain greater he loves her still; Through thorns and thistles ’till his feet are sore, She bids him stop; he cries to follow more.

Just as a bird must know the limb’s secure Before she comes to build on it her nest, So love will nestle when she finds us true, Deep in our breast.

Just as we bruise a pear to make it sweet, So love will bruise her victim with her feet; It shoves the baby eagle from its nest; Before it falls her wings go ’neath its breast.

THANKSGIVING PRAYER.

Lord God, I turn on this Thanksgiving Day, To view the path o’er which I’ve made my way, Although a path of thorns my eye may greet, Although I feel the sting still in my feet; Although the harvest fail my barn to fill, With grateful heart I bow and thank Thee still.

For I am sure what e’er has been my lot, How meek, how poor is more than I deserve. Unto Thy will I bow and murmur not.

I’ll not condemn His justice--whom I serve. I’ll not complain and call Thee, Father, stern. Because Thy sacred plans I’ve failed to learn; The cause of all this grief I cannot tell, And yet, like Job of old, I’ll not rebel.

Lord God, I turn on this Thanksgiving Day, To view the path o’er which I made my way. Although a path of thorns my eye may greet, Although I feel the sting still in my feet, Although the harvest fail my barn to fill, With grateful heart I bow and thank Thee still.

LOVE.

So oft I’ve read what poets sang of love, To feel their joy far years in vain I sought; At last love came, a cooing little dove; The joy it brought!

And since the day when I first sipped the wine, I’ve felt a song I would all men could hear, Though vainly I have sought for word and rhyme To make it clear.

To teach this song love only has the power; To mortal man the door is sealed, though near. Some day the door will open, you’ll discover Love’s song and hear.

RIGHT WILL WIN.

Think not, my friend, if right be crushed to-day, That violent wrong will ever hold the day; A noble cause aside the kings may toast, If it be right, Oh! no, ’tis never lost. Know ye, the stone the builders first refused, Was left alone, but at the top was used. God stopped and called the leper from the cross; He can not use the haughty and the proud; From out the stagnant pool He makes to grow The fragrant water lilies, white as snow.

VICTORIA THE QUEEN.

Oh, victorious Queen, it’s through thy loyal grace I bring this wreath--a token from my race; True, thou art gone, no more on earth to meet; I come to spread these lilies at thy feet. Of all the wreaths brought from the floral shrine, This wreath alone portrays the life of thine. These many years thou wert before our sight, So calm and kind, so pure, serenely bright, Like glowing sunlight, seated on thy throne, Giving us rays, withholding them from none. One soul, one God, has been thy sacred theme; The high, the low--their cries were heard the same. Rest on, grand soul, in perfect peace above, For thou wert love, and love must rest with love; Even though we weep, though sorrow fills our breast, We do not wish to call thee from thy rest, A star, though quenched, thy light is shining still; Thy voice, though hushed, thy subjects know thy will.

LIFE AND LOVE.

Life is a boundless sea, on which men float; Succeed we may to ride the waves of Fate, Yet still within our paths there surely lies, The chasm death, the voidless ultimate.

Love is a sacred shrine, to which men kneel, Succeed we may the blessing to attain, Yet rest assured the hallowed joy it brings, E’en though sublime, somehow is tinged with pain.

A SLOTHFUL YOUTH.

Beside the road in youth I sat in slumber, The passers hailed and told me it was day; “But, ah!” said I, “my days are great in number.” And soundly slept, regardless of their say.

Now, here I sit; the night has come upon me; I fain would go, but darkness hides my way. I’d turn to God that He would look upon me; I’ve now forgot the prayer I used to pray.

Yet, while I sit and vainly wait, the morning, I yearn to tell, but ah! it is too late. That he who sleeps at day and fails the warning, Shall wake at night, the dreadful ultimate.

A QUEST.

Tell me, my soul, tell me, I pine to know, Some future day, known as the harvest time! Am I to reap from all the grain I sow, My ill-wrought deed am I to claim as mine?

If I should hurl my javelin in the dark, And spread out thorns and thistles ’long the way, Will it return and find me as its mark? Am I to tread the thorns some future day?

O Lord, I pray that Thou wouldst guide my hand; Let not an evil seed by me be sown, Or cause to sprout within a brother’s land What I should hate to see within my own.

SIGNS OF DEATH.

When you hear at night de cows a lowin’, An’ dogs a howlin’ out der mournful soun’, I tell you now you better get you ready, Dey’s goin’ to plant som’body in de groun’.

You need not b’leave in signs, not less you wan’ to, But some of des morn’ you’ll wake up in su’prize, An’ if dem dogs com’ howlin’ where I’m sleepin’, I tell you now dis darkey’s goin’ ’o rize.

If der’s any doubts o’ being ready, Down on my knees a prayer I’ll make, You can laugh an’ say dat darkey’s skeery, I’m like a rabbit can’ trus’ no mistake.

It may not be fo’ me de dog’s a howlin’, But when de howl my path I’m goin’ ’o sweep An’ I ain’t goin’ to bed no mo dat evenin’, Fo’ death will never com’ an’ fin’ me sleep.

Der’re lots o’ learned people talkin’, bully, An’ saying der’s nothing in de signs; But if da com’ a roun’ me with der learnin’ I’m jus’ er goin’ ’o tell ’em dey’re lyin’.

I’se got no time to listen to der learnin’, Fo’ dey is jus’ a tryin’ to show off smart, Der ain’t nobody, don’t care how dey’s learned, Dat’s got de signs all wiped out o’ der heart.

Fo’ learnin’ never takes from man his habits, It only smears dem over wid a stain, An’ caus’ you’re learned, you is not an angel, Dem same old trates er lurkin’ still within.

I kno’ I’m learned as high as anybody, Yit whin a chicken coop I’m passin’ by, Der com’ to me again dem same old feelin’s I’m going ’o hav’ dat chicken ’cep he fly.

A SAILOR’S DEPARTURE.

My dearest child, I have no wealth to give you, No ring of gold to you can I impart; Going, yet why should going grieve you? You have my heart.

In calm, in storm, no matter how the weather, My one great thought shall ever be of thee; Tell me, I pray thee, tell me whether You’ll think of me?

Without your love I wish my burden lighter; With head bowed low I plod life’s weary way, But with your love each day is brighter, To toil is play.

The ship has come, I must no longer tarry; The lamp of love for you will ever burn; Farewell, pray let your soul be merry, Soon I’ll return.

When I return, what e’er may be my treasure-- That happy day I pray God that we meet-- My life, my all, I’ll cast with pleasure Down at your feet.

He said “Good-bye”--the tears were swiftly falling-- The ship moved off, she left alone to dwell; The signal as they sounded pealing Their last farewell.

A TEST OF LOVE.