EMORY UNIVERSITY
Truly yours,
EFFIE WALLER.
DEDICATION
I bring this little book
Of simple rhymes, and few
With love sincere and pure
To dedicate to you;
You whom I know and love,
You who are my friends
And live among1 the mountains-
The dear old Cumberlands.
.—•The
CONTENTS.
PAGE
To the Cumberland Mountains i
Among the "Breaks" of Big Sandy River 2
Evening Among the Cumberlands 4
At Pool Point 5
The Lake on the Mountain 7
On Big Sandy River 8
Elkhorn City io
O Spruce Pines on the Cumberlands io
Beauties of the Cumberlands ii
On Duty's Knob 13
Courtship Among the Cumberlands 14
My Native Mountains 16
To a Spring in the Cumberlands 17
Sunrise on the Cumberlands 18
Sunset on the Cumberlands 20
A Mountain Picture 21
AMONG THE "BREAKS" OF BIG SANDY
RIVER.
I heard a cataract that fell
On boulders huge and round.
TO THE CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS.
O Cumberland! O Cumberland!
My own, my native hills,
For you, my dear old Cumberland
With love my bosom thrills.
Your ridged and towering cliffs,
What a beauty, what a wonder!
Which have withstood for centuries
The lightning's flash and thunder.
Summer finds your craggy peaks
No caps of whiteness wearing,
From base to crest you greet the eye
With green majestic bearing.
In childhood's days upon your slopes
How oft my feet have wandered,
How oft o'er your sublimity
My childish mind has pondered.
With joy I've plucked the flowers that
bloomed
Within your dells and dales;
With eagerness I've watched the streams
Plash through your wooded vales.
And I have seen within your vales
2 Rhymes from the Cumberland!
The timid cowering dove,
I've seen the eagle wing his flight
Your lofty heights above.
But not solely for your beauty,
Nor because my home is here,
Not for these alone, dear mountains
In my heart I love you dear.
For within your soil lies buried
'Neath the spruce pines and the flow'rs
The only love of my lost youth,
Of my childhood's happy hours.
AMONG THE "BREAKS" OF BIG SANDY
RIVER.
OCTOBER 1902.
The "Breaks" are a picturesque gorge about
five miles long in the Cumberland Mountains,
through which the beautiful Sandy river flews.
One halcyon day in Autumn
Upon a wave-washed stone
I sat beside the river's edge,
Musing, and all alone.
On either side of the river rose
High towering towards the sky
The rugged, rock bound hills whereon
I heard the spruce pines sigh.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 3
The pipe reeds withered, brown and sere,
The partridge, mellow drumming,
The many colored flying leaves
Foretold of Winter's coming.
Above me calm and still there stretch' 1
A lovely lakelet blue,
Upon its shallow water swam
Wild ducks of somber hue.
The gaudy crested pheasant bird
Made low a whirring sound;
I heard a cataract that fell
On boulders huge and round.
I watched the white and billowy clouds
That floated lazily
With sun encircled edges through
The purple tinted sky.
I never knew a sweeter look
Of Nature ever wearing,
I never saw her more sublime,
With more grand awesome bearing
Than when among Big Sandy's "Breaks"
October last upon
That long-to-be-remembered day
I spent with her alone.
My soul was thrilled with rhapsodies
And filled with thoughts I can't express
O'er her grandeur, sublimity,
And her simple loveliness.
4 Rhymes from the Cumberland
Methought as on that stone I sat
In wandering reverie,
"Were I a hermit, sure this place
My hermitage would be."
EVENING AMONG THE CUMBER-
LANDS.
Among the rocky Cumberland
A summer day is ending;
The woodman now with ax on arm
His homeward way is wending.
The sun is hid from sight, but leaves
A pleasant afterglow
On western, and quietude
And peace are reigning now.
And from the woodland pasture
The cattle slowly roam;
I hear the jingle of their bells
Now on their journey home.
The robin gay has caroled
His sweet and goodnight lay
And with his mate has gone to sleep
Until another day.
The whippo'will so plaintive
His night song has begun,
And everywhere s the music
Of insects' ceaseless hum.
AT POOL POINT.
Once on this rocky point I stood,
My sun hat on my head
And threw a stone into the pool,
To watch the circles spread.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 5
And now and then the night-hawk
With scream so loud and shrill,
I hear on some high distant peak
When all things else are still.
So calmly and so peacefully,
Just in this charmful way,
Among the rocky Cumberlands
Closes a summer day.
AT POOL POINT.
Pool Point is where the Cumberland
Causes an awkward bend
In Sandy river as it does
Its northward journey wend.
'Tis called Pool Point because there lies
Just at its base a pool
Made by the Sandy river; and
It sure is beautiful.
This spreading pool is almost round;
And it is always cool;
Its bosom almost waveless is;
Its depth is wonderful.
Is Pool Point rocky? I should say!
'Tis almost wholly rock,
Save a bit of clayey soil where grows
A growth of scrawny oak.
Once on this rocky point I stood
6
Rhymes from the Cumberland
My sun-hat on my head
And threw a stone into its depths
To watch the circles spread.
The sound was echoed from the hills,
Then slowly died away;
The circles vanished one by one
And left no trace where they
Had been a little while before:
Still mused I standing on
That rugged, overhanging ledge
Of rudely pictured stone.
"How easy it would be" I mused
"To follow where I threw
That tiny stone and peacef'ly sleep
Hidden away from view.
And would my friends forget me
When there awhile I've lain?
Ah, yes, for Time's a balm for grief,
For sorrow and for pain."
I turned my back towards the pool,
And walked with rapid pace
Across the stony, woodland path
Back to my boarding place.
"Forgive me, Father," thus I prayed,
"Forgive thy erring child,
Who looking at thy handiwork
Among these mountains wild;
Rhymes from the Cumberland 7
"Who gazing at yon deep, wide pool
Of waveless water mild
Should suicidal thoughts conceive.
Forgive, forgive thy child."
THE LAKE ON THE MOUNTAIN.
The eastern sky of azure hue
With colors bright were blended
As we with quick and buoyant steps
The Cumberland ascended.
The air was breezy, fresh and warm;
The morning was sublime;
The ground was strewn with colored leaves—
For it was autumn time.
We stopped and plucked some wintergreen
We gathered pine cones brown,
We paused awhile where chestnut trees
Had dropped their harvest down.
So pleasantly we'd passed the time
While climbing up the slope
We hardly realized it when
We reached the mountain's top.
Suddenly a beauteous lake
Our wondering entranced;
Upon its wave blown bosom
The morning sunbeams danced.
Half hidden by the reeds and ferns
8 Rhymes from the Cumberland
That yet were bright and green
Bathing quite near the water's edge
Wild ducks by us were seen.
And clearly mirrored in the lake
With leaves of varied hue
Were the trees that stood upon its shore
'Neath heaven's dome of blue.
We sat upon a spruce pine's trunk
That had uprooted been
By wind and storm and angled in
The lake still and serene.
We homeward went ere evening came,
But nothing did we take
With us except a siring of fish
From out the mountain lake.
ON BIG SANDY RIVER.
The sun-bathed hills were beautiful,
The day was rich and fair
The wind was blowing fresh and cool,
The atmosphere was rare.
When meriy and light hearted in
A "Jack-boat" painted red
Seeking some far off woodland scene
We up the Sandy sped.
Far up the rippling, winding stream
We found a pleasant spot,
ON BIG SANDY RIVER.
. . . Merry and light hearted in
A "Jack-boat'' painted red;
Seeking some far off woodland scene,
We up the Sandy sped.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 9
'Twas beautiful in the extreme—
Hid from the sunbeams hot.
The branches of the sycamore
With spreading branches wide
Made a lovely archway o'er
The river from each side.
We pushed our boat toward the shore
And caref'ly tied her to
A drooping branch of sycamore
Which near the water grew.
Along the shady, sandy bank
Where grew the peppermint
Among the willows tall and rank
We left our deep feet's print.
On a large rock smooth and bare
We stopped awhile; and ate
A most delicious dinner there
Which we'll not soon forget.
When shadows of the evening showed
Upon the mountain green
Our painted boat we lightly rowed
Adown the rippling stream.
With happy minds we homeward went
Thinking we would never
Forget the pleasant day we'd spent
On dear old Sandy River.
io Rhymes from the Cumberland
ELKHORN CITY.
C Elkhorn City, little town!
On which the Cumberland look down
Fond and protectingly.
Around your northern border grows
The spruce pines, and the Sandy flows
Among them tranquilly.
Your streets are ornamented well
With trees and cottages where dwell
Ever contentedly
A people, hospitable and kind,
To Life and Duty never blind
High minded proud and free.
0 Elkhorn City! In my heart
1 hold for you a goodly part
Of love's devotion true;
And this my wish: That He above
May ever spread his wings of love
Around and over you.
O SPRUCE PINES ON THE CUMBER-
LANDS.
O spruce pines on the Cumberlands
So stately and so tall,
So very grand and beautiful,
Days gone by you recall.
Days of my childhood, happy days
ELKHORN CITY.
O, Elkliorn City, little town!
On which the Cumberlands look down
Fond and protectingly.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 11
When often I have played
Upon the slopes of these dear hills
Within the spruce pines' shade.
He played with me—my sweetheart—then
Under these spruce pines tall;
Of all the days that I have lived
Those were happiest of all.
But one spring day upon these hills
While zephyrs softly blew,
I stood beside my sweetheart's grave
Strewed o'er with violets blue.
Among the spruce pines 'bove my head
The birds sang sweet and clear
But the sweetness of their melody
My sad heart could not cheer.
A score of years have passed since then,
And still the spruce pines stand
Moaning a requiem for my dead
Upon the Cumberland.
BEAUTIES OF THE CUMBERLAND.
He is not destitute of lore,—
Far, far from it is he,—
Who doth the Cumberland adore,
And love them reverently.
Methinks they who make their abode
On plain and valley wide
12 Rhymes from the Cumberland
Are not so near to heaven and God
As those who here abide.
Among the dear old Cumberland
How sweet is life to me,
Here beauties grow and e'er expand
Each day for me to see.
Far from the city's strife and care
I live a life obscure;
I breathe the sweet health-giving air
And drink the water pure.
The rugged, rocky peaks I climb,
Which bold and peerless stand,
Majestic, mighty, huge, sublime,
So beautiful and so grand!
The wondrous works of God I view
In every dell and nook;
And daily learn some lesson new
From Nature's open book.
Here calm and wooded glens afford
The noblest, purest kind
Of inspiration for the bard's
Dreamy and gifted mind.
And here is music continually,
Not tiresome, weird or dull;
And here are scenes for the artist's eye
Lovely and beautiful.
How oft their grandeur I've admired
Rhymes from the Cumberland 13
As 'neath them I have stood;
And it was they that me inspired
To love the pure and good.
How sweet among their vales to roam
And view their summits high;
Here may I ever have a home,
Here may I live and die!
ON DUTY'S KNOB.
The flush of a beautiful sunrise
Had gently melted away
And left no trace in the eastern sky
One morning early in May.
When with tiresome steps we'd climbed the
slope
Of yon distant mountain high,
And were standing on its sunkissed top
'Neath a purple tinted sky.
With joy we listened to the birds
As we drank the sunshine in.
Far away we saw the town, but heard
We not its noise and din.
Breathed we the invigorating air
As beneath a copious shade
We sat and plucked the flowers fair
Which we into bouquets made.
14 Rhymes from the Cumberland
With fragrance sweet they were scented
Some were purple, some were gay.
But fairer than those flowers which
We plucked and then threw away,
Was your own lovely expressive face
Which anon was pensive then gay.
To me it had every womanly grace
As I looked at it that day.
COURTSHIP AMONG THE CUMBER-
LANDS.
Up from the woodland pasture
Came farmer Thomson's son,
Driving his cattle homeward
At the setting of the sun.
The long, narrow, winding pathway
Was shaded here and there,
By stately growing elm trees
And fringed with flowers fair.
Down this narrow, winding pathway,
In homespun cotton gown,
Came Grade, the youngest daughter
Of blacksmith William Brown.
Leisurely she tripped along,
Her feet were brown and bare;
Over her shoulders fluttered
Soft braids of auburn hair.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 15
She knew she would meet young Thomson,
Her lover on the way,
Driving his cows from the pasture
His 'customed duty each day.
But now as she sees him she blushes
And twitches her pretty head,
And nervously fingers her apron
Of checkered white and red.
How his eyes beam with love-light as
He cries "Hello! Sweetheart Grace!"
And throws his arms about her,
And clasps her in fond embrace.
Onward, and down the pathway
The cattle slowly pass,
Nibbling at blossomed daisies
And bits of straggling grass,
The golden sun has sunk behind
The mountains steep and tall;
And the moon is shining brightly,
Twilight is over all.
Among the stately elm trees
The night winds softly sigh—
And still the lovers linger
Beneath the moonlit sky.
i6 Rhymes from the Cumberland
MY NATIVE MOUNTAINS.
I love my native mountains,
The dear old Cumberland,
Rockribbed and everlasting,
How great they are, and grand!
I love each skyward reaching peak,
Each glassy glade and dale,
Each moss-and-fern-clad precipice
Each lovely flower decked vale.
I love each vine-hung rocky glen
I love each dark ravine
Though there may hide the catamount
And wild dog sly and mean.
I love my mountains' forests
Varied and beautiful
I love her springs and waterfalls,
So pure and wonderful.
I love her richly plumaged birds
The pheasant and the jay,
The merry scarlet tanager,
The woodpeck bright and gay.
How oft among these mountains
Has the silvery music clear
From the lark's throat cheered the traveler,
And the honest mountaineer.
But more than these old mountains
MY NATIVE MOUNTAINS.
I love my mountains' forests,
Varied and beautiful,
I love her streams and waterfalls
So pure and wonderful.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 17
Which with wonder I revere
I love with true devotion
The people who live here.
So here's with love sincere and dear
For her sons of brawn and worth;
And her daughters pure and lovely,
The fairest types of earth.
TO A SPRING IN THE CUMBERLANDS.
Gurgling spring in sylvan beauty
Almost hid away from view;
From your own bright sparkling water
I will drink a health to you.
Beach and oak tree reaching skyward
Guard you from the sunlight's heat;
And from this overhanging stone
Comes a breath of flowers sweet.
In your water clear and cold
Warbling birds their plumage lave;
From your brink o'ergrown with mosses
Dainty fern fronds gently wave.
Huntmen here have often lingered
Drinking of your water clear;
And you've often quenched the thirst
Of the agile, antlered deer.
So here's a health dear sparkling spring
Gurgling from the mountain's side,
18 Rhymes from the Cumberland
With a wish that in your beauty
You will ever here abide.
Oct. 4, 1902.
SUNRISE ON THE CUMBERLANDS.
The Chimney Rocks are huge chimney
shaped rocks from which a vapor resembling
smoke continually rises.
We sat upon the Chimney Rocks
O'ergrown with lichens gray,
Waiting for the sunlight warm
To clear the mist away.
The Chimney Rocks crown a peak
Of Cumberland mountain which
O'erlooks the Sandy river
In picturesqueness rich.
Skyward in rugged bold relief
Without a bush or tree
To make their prominence less marked
They tower in majesty.
Wet were our garments with the dew,
Tired were our feet and sore;
For we had climbed a good long mile
Of stony path before
We reached those rocks whereon our guide
Time and again had been
Rhymes from the Cumberland 19
With others ere us to see the sun
His daily course begin.
He (our guide) had said to us
In rustic language: "You
Of sunrise from the Chimney Rocks
Will get a lovely view."
I would that you had been with us
On dear old Cumberland;
Have sat with us upon those rocks
And have seen that sunrise grand.
The sunbeams kissed the mountain tops;
The mist was cleared away;
The eastern sky was streaked and splatched
With colors bright and gay.
While we bared our heads to gaze
On distant suntipped peaks
The scented morning zephyrs fanned
Our hot and flushing cheeks.
And, I doubt not the self same thoughts
Were pondered in each mind,
As we looked down the rocky slope
Which we had lately climbed
With toilsome steps to reach those rocks
Where we could see the sun
Appear in glorious splendor
Above the horizon.
Though toilsome was the walk it seemed
20 Rhymes from the Cumberland
As nothing since our eyes
With pleasant joy had feasted on
That glorious sunrise.
Sometimes the pathway which He bids
Us walk in here below
Is often stony, and ofttimes
Beside it thistles grow.
Sometimes the misty clouds o'er.hang
Our stony pathway hard;
Sometimes we almost starve for rest
We get so very tired!
But then above the gloomy clouds
There's sunshine, and we know
We'll reach a place not strewn with stones
Where thistles do not grow.
And when we reach that upper land
So bright, so pure and fair
Forgotten will the hardships be
We had in getting there.
SUNSET ON THE CUMBERLAND.
Upon the "Chimneys" yesterday
We sat beneath the trees
While sang the birds and softly blew
The flower scented breeze.
You should have been with us upon
Those "Chimney Rocks" and seen
SUNSET ON THE CUMBERLANDS.
You should have been with us upon
Those "chimneys" and have seen
The golden sun in splendor sink
Behind the hilltops green.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 21
The golden sun in grandeur sink
Behind the hill-tops green.
Like bars across the western sky-
Such gorgeous streaks of red,
Such brilliant hues of yellow
Of blue and pink were spread.
So richly blended were those hues
They cast a lovely splendor
Which words cannot describe upon
The budding tree tops tender.
Had Rembrandt been with us I doubt
Quite much if he on canvas
Could have portrayed with brush and paint
That sunset's loveliness.
Long sat we on those moss grown rocks
With eyes and minds untiring,
The beauty and the grandeur of
That sunset scene admiring.
A MOUNTAIN PICTURE
We sat within the cabin old,
'Twas built of logs, and small;
The blazing fire of beechen sticks
Lit up the dingy wall.
Discerned we with our searching eyes
While glowed the fire's bright light,
On strong supports above the door
A rifle polished bright.
22 Rhymes from the Cumberland
The crickets chirped solemnly
Among the chimney's clay,
Dozing upon the hearthstone wide
A brindled kitten lay.
We chatted with our host who had
For more than three score year,
Lived among the Cumberlands
A sturdy mountaineer.
He sat with legs crossed, loosely clad
In home spun suit of grey,
While smoke in billowy waves of blue
Curled from his pipe of clay.
He was our guide while we were there
Among those mountains high;
Whose every rill and valley were
Familiar to his eye.
He told of when ferocious beasts
Roamed o'er those mountains wild;
He told us of the time when he
An Indian chief had killed.
Yes, many tales he told to us
Of ancient deeds performed
By him among the Cumberlands
With knife and musket armed.
And while we listened to those tales
More fanciful than truthful,
We noted well our host's blue eyes
Large, sparkling, keen, and youthful.
Rhymes from the Cumberland
The tranquil peace and happiness
That sweet contentment brings,
And which our host possessed is not
A heritage for kings.
Nor for- those who daily walk
The crowded ways of life,
Eager for gain and eminence
Though won and held through strife.
'Twas thus I pondered long that night
In meditation deep,
While lying on my bed before
I closed my eyes in sleep.
I coveted my host who lived
With peace of mind unbounded,
Beside the Sandy river
By mountain walls surrounded.
PART II
CONTENTS
PAGE
There's Beauty All Around Us 29
Violets 30
The Maple's Leaves Were Scarlet 31
Beautiful Moon 32
A Meadow Brook 32
On Receiving a Deer-Skin 33
When You Are With Me 34
A Recollection 35
In the Years That Are To Come 37
"The Best Of All, God Is With Us" 37
There's a Bright and Beautiful City 38
He Is Risen 39
To An Old Class-Mate 40
Do You Know? 41
I Need Thee Every Hour 42
"How Beautiful It Is To Be With God" 42
Sing a Song Of Autumn 43
Christmas 44
On Receiving a Souvenir Post-Card 45
The 'Frisco Earthquake 48
The "Bachelor Girl" 49
There's a Mound In West Virginia 51
Some Day 52
Lines Written On Fly-Leaf 53
Rhymes from the Cumberland 29
THERE'S BEAUTY ALL AROUND US.
All around us there is beauty
On the leaves of Nature's book,
And while in the path of duty
Ought we not at them to look?
Oh, why should we within a field
Of fresh blooming roses rare
See but the thorns that're half-concealed
Underneath the blossoms fair?
Or why should we the lilies tread
With our clumsy, careless feet?
"Consider them," Our Savior said,
"In their loveliness complete."
While daily through the world we move
With duty's path around us,
Let's train our eyes to see and love
The beauties that surround us.
Let us sometimes watch the sun rise
As the moments hasten by,
Glowing with rich resplendent dyes
In the far off eastern sky.
And at morning let us listen
30 Rhymes from the Cumberland
While the birds their carols sing,
While the silvery dew-drops glisten
And the cow-bells faintly ring.
When beneath the elm we rest
While blows the evening wind
As the Day-god in the west
Sinks the mountain's crest behind.
When the stars are faintly peeping
From the heavens one by one,
When shadows are dimly creeping,
When the busy day is done.
Then as we meditate and dream
With Nature wonderingly,
Perhaps our cares will lighter seem,
And our work less irksome be.
VIOLETS.
Oh, lovely, lovely violets,
So dainty and so blue,
So modest yet so beautiful,
Whene'er I look at you
I mind me of a gone-by day,
When in a woodland glade,
Beside a purling brooklet,
Beneath an elm's shade.
We sat and plucked the violets
That blossomed by us there,
Rhymes from the Cumberland 31
Shedding their sweet perfume
Upon the woodland air.
We made sweet nose-gays of their blooms,
We tried our fortunes, too,
With them, though long ago that's been,
They told our fortunes true.
THE MAPLE'S LEAVES WERE SCARLET.
The maple's leaves were scarlet,
The golden rods were bright,
The birdies to the South land
Had winged their homeward flight.
The katydids were calling
Beneath the spreading yew,
In hollows near the forest's edge
The grapes were turning blue.
The sumac's crimson berries shone
By brook and dusty road,
Within our dooryards gorgeous blooms
Of tall chrysanth'mums glowed.
When hand in hand they vowed to walk
Life's pathway here together,
Through poverty or riches and
Through fair or stormy weather.
And share together all the pains
And pleasures that await them,
Through health or sickness love none else
'Till death should separate them.
32 Rhymes from the Cumberland
BEAUTIFUL MOON.
Beautiful goddess of the night,
Shining gently from above,
Whisper to me, oh, moon so bright,
Whisper of my absent love.
Moon, oh, beautiful moon, so bright,
Shedding gently your radiant light,
Tell me to-night, fair moon, won't you,
Does my sweetheart love me true?
Moon, as upon my pillow white
Your bright beams fall from above,
Bathing my head with mellow light,
Oh, let me dream of my love.
Moon, oh, beautiful moon, so bright,
Let me dream of my love to-night;
Tell me of him, oh, fair moon, do,
Tell me does he love me true?
A MEADOW BROOK.
There's a quiet nook by a meadow brook
In my old Kentucky home far away,
'Tis a cool retreat from the scorching heat
How I wish I were there to-day.
There to lie on the grass while the breezes pass,
Where the violet sweetly grows,
/ id high overhead the elm trees spread
Their vine and leaf-clad boughs.
'Tis indeed a treat supremely sweet
For the nature-loving soul;
Rhymes from the Cumberland
There lilies wave and gently lave
In the water clear and cool.
How often there from perplexing care
Listening to the brooklet's flow,
Have I laid at rest on the grassy breast
Of Mother Earth long ago.
Those days have sped, have swiftly fled
On the wings of time away,
But in memory yet I can't forget
That meadow brook far away.
ON RECEIVING A DEER-SKIN.
to w. k.
With my bare feet on my deer-skin,
The firelight glowing bright,
In my old and creaky rocker
I sit alone to-night.
While imagination holds me
Within her fond embrace,
With the lithe, fleet-footed deer
I rove from place to place.
Far out among the western wilds,
Beyond the turbid tide
Of the Mississippi river,
Beyond prairies wide.
I gaze upon the geysers high,
And boiling springs of water,
34
Rhymes from the Cumberland
I see the great Missouri where
Enormous cedars border.
I see the Indian's bark canoe
Adown its bosom dashing,
I see majestic cataracts
And hear their mighty splashing.
I see the panther and the wolf,
And birds with plumage rare,
I see the horned buffalo,
And shaggy, grizzly bear.
I wander through dark fastnesses
Where weird breezes blow,
I climb the craggy rugged peaks
Cered o'er with ice and snow.
Among the Rockies' vales I pluck
The brightest beauties strewn
By Flora's lavish hand, and find
Rare specimens of stone.
I thank you for this deer-skin rug
Before my fireside bright,
And my imaginative journey
To the western wilds to-night.
WHEN YOU ARE WITH ME.
Richer tints the western sky
Shows at sunset, darling mine,
Which all artist's paints defy:
Rhymes from the Cumberland 35
Gorgeous, splendid, e'en divine,
When you are with me.
And when the lowliest flower
In Spring its leaves unfold,
(Be its home on hill or moor)
Sweeter fragrance seems to hold,
When you are with me.
Where flows yon winding stream
Among the alders green,
More lovely does its waters seem,
More calm and more serene,
When you are with me.
In grove and meadow sing the birds
More sweetly and more gayly,
When I'm listening to your hopeful words
Of our futurity,
When you are with me.
A RECOLLECTION.
Once there in my garden fair
Sang a bird of plumage rare,
From its throat there came to greet
My ear sweet music—strangely sweet.
Once a flower of lovely hue
In this self same garden grew,
Blossomed—oh, so sweetly there
That its breath perfumed the air.
Rhymes from the Cumberland
Once a flower of lovely hue
This same garden murmured through,
Over shining stones it played,
Softest, richest music made.
In this garden 'neath a tree
That cast its copious shade for me,
Was a restful cool retreat
From the noonday's scorching heat.
Now no richly plumaged bird
Singing in my garden's heard,
A milder zone it's sought than this;
Ah, its sweet songs how I miss.
Now no flower of lovely hue
Glittering with morning dew
Sheds its perfume in the air—
It has dropped its petals fair.
In my garden near the hill
Flows the self same brooklet still,
But it makes no rippling sound
For with ice and snow 'tis bound.
And the elm tree that made
Such a copious, cooling shade,
Void of foliage is it now,
Naked each brown spreading bough.
Birdie, flower, brooklet, tree,
You all now are gone from me;
But 'till now I never knew
That I loved you as I do.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 37
Little thought I, dear sweetheart,
On that morn ere we did part
When from me you claimed a kiss
That your presence I would miss;
For ere then I did not know—
Did not dream I loved you so.
Could we only know before
'Tis too late what is in store
For us; what of storm and rain,
What of sadness, grief and pain.
We'd enjoy the glad sunlight
While it lasts ere comes the night,
And our friends so kind and dear
We would love and prize and cheer.
IN THE YEARS THAT ARE TO COME.
When my hair is thin and gray,
When there's wrinkles on my brow;
When my eyes are dim, and when
Feeble is my step and slow,
This one question I would ask,
This one question, sweetheart, dear,
Will you love me then as now,
Love me truly and sincere.
"THE BEST OF ALL, GOD IS WITH US."
dying words of john wesley.
When trials hard and sore we meet,
When thorns are piercing our tired feet,
38
Rhymes from the Cumberland
When heavy clouds o'erspread the sky,
When winds are wild and waves dash high,
"The best of all, God is with us."
When earthly friends unfaithful prove,
When kindred hearts have ceased to love,
When grief the heart has sorely tried,
When Satan tempts on every side,
"The best of all, God is with us."
When we pass through death's Valley dark
Of earthly light, without a spark,
When earthly friends from us have gone,
When earthly help and hopes have flown,
"The best of all, God is with us."
And when we reach that shining shore
Up yonder, where we die no more,
Up yonder, where from sin we're free,
The sweetest fact to us will be,
"The best of all, God is with us."
THERE'S A BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL
CITY.
There's a bright and beautiful city,
A beautiful city On high;
A beautiful city for you and me,
Far, far beyond the sky.
The streets of that city with gold are paved,
The gates are of pearls pure and white,
And the walls are of rare and precious stones
Most beautiful and bright.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 39
In that city are never-fading flowers,
There the tree of Life ever grows;
And the river of Life so clear and "pure
Through that beautiful city flows.
No moon nor stars ever shine there
For there never is any night,
Nor no sun is there to shine by day
For the Savior is the light.
The inhabitants never do get sick
In that fair city on high,
And they never need any graveyards there
For they never, never die.
HE IS RISEN.
"He is not here," the angel said
To Mary, who, with silent tread,
With weeping eyes and bowed down head,
Sought her Lord among the dead.
"The tomb is empty, come and see;
Your Lord's not here, oh, no, not He;
This is His tomb, and these His clothes,
But He's not here, for He has rose."
May we like Him—our Savior rise
From things of low and weak disguise,
Rise from the trifling things of earth
To things of high intrinsic worth.
Rise from the world's perplexing strife
40 Rhymes from the Cumberland
Unto a higher, nobler life;
A life from sin's pollution free,
A life of spotless purity!
TO AN OLD CLASS-MATE.
As your letter I read, dear Mary,
To-night in my room alone,
I am made happy, very,
As I think of days by gone.
Now at your face, my dearie,
With fanciful eyes I gaze,
And hear again your voice so cheery
As in the olden days.
Those days of our school career
When life was full of glee,
Although I was your senior, dear,
You seemed a mother to me.
O'er books with pensive eyes we'd gaze
To solve the problems there,
Which fitted us for life's broad ways
And possibilities, my dear.
We walk lifers broadened ways to-day,
Solve at its problems, too,
More deep and more perplexing they
Than those our text-books knew.
Since you were with me, Mary, dear,
The years have sped away, how fast;
Rhymes from the Cumberland 41
Some spent in smiles and some in tears,
However spent they're of the past.
DO YOU KNOW?
Do you know the grapes are purpling,
And the nuts are falling down ?
Do you know the leaves are turning,
Turning yellow, red and brown?
Do you know the grass has withered,
That it does no longer grow?
Do you know the white field-daisy
Faded, faded long ago?
Do you know that in the orchard
Apple trees are bending down
With their weight of red, red pippins
And of russets golden brown?
Do you know down by the roadside
By the road you oft have trod,
Blooming lovely 'spite of dust
Is the gaudy golden rod?
Do you know that in the cornfield
Heaps of yellow pumpkins lie?
Do you know that to the Southland
Birdies have begun to fly?
If you'd leave the smoky city
You would know these things, my dear,
And would only look about you,
You would know that Autumn's here.
42 Rhymes from the Cumberland
I NEED THEE EVERY HOUR.
"I .need Thee every hour,
Most gracious Lord,"
With majesty and power
With one accord.
Sang the village choir at church
Truthful words of prayer,
Could we but know how much
We need Thee here.
How much we need Thy guidance
When roads are drear,
How much we need Thy aidance
When sin is near.
Believing on Thy precious word
And mercy free,
May I thus ever pray, "Dear Lord,
I need, oh, I need Thee."
"HOW BEAUTIFUL IT IS TO BE WITH
GOD."
dtflng words of frances e. willajrd.
"How beautiful it is to be with God."
Truer and sweeter words by dying lips
Than those above were never said,
Courage and hope and comfort, all, they brought
To those who mourned around your bed.
Rhymes from the Cumberland
"How beautiful it is to be with God."
For many years you realized this fact
Walking beside Him day by day
With unfeigned love along life's checkered w
Having no other wish but to obey.
"How beautiful it is to be with God."
Like you endeavoring hard to 'stablish right;
Helping seeds of kindness to sow,
Helping to cheer the lonely hearts, and bring
A ray of sunshine where you go.
"How beautiful it is to be with God."
Lovingly to sympathize with those
Whose lives are saddened and to speak
In mild and gentle tones reproving oft
Our brothers who are wayward and weak.
"How beautiful it is to be with God."
When life is closing fast and visions of
The mysterious future appear,
'Tis beautiful indeed amid the gloom
To feel, to know that He is near.
"How beautiful it is to be with God."
Dear soul, we hope, we feel assured that you
In bliss unbounded now behold
Your dear Redeemer face to face and walk
With Him the City's streets of gold.
SING A SONG OF AUTUMN.
Sing a song of Autumn,
Flowers no more in bloom,
Rhymes from the Cumberland
Shedding all around us
Their balmy, rich perfume.
In vain we look for flowers,
For they're faded all, and dead,
But the woodland still is brilliant
With bright-hued leaves instead.
The frost has nipped the clover
And left the meadows brown;
Hickory nuts and chestnuts
From the trees are falling down.
CHRISTMAS.
In a country far, far away,
Far beyond the rolling sea,
To the little town of Bethle'em
Shepherds wond'ring came to see
Him of whom the heavenly choir
Sang with gladness, sang with might*
Of His birth and of His glory
On that holy sacred night.
Loud those Judean hills re-echoed,
Loud and joyously they rang,
What the angel choir so sweetly
And so gladly, gladly sang.
Sang they of the Father's mercy
Who to us the Christ-babe gave
For our own and full redemption,
Mercy rich and free to save!
It is not purs to listen now
Rhymes from the Cumberland
To a host of angels sing
Loud and sweet the welcome tidings
Which to earth they gladly bring,
Nor ours with wonderment to gaze
O'er a manger cradle low,
As did once those pious shepherds
In Judea long ago.
For the Redeemer that was born
In that country far away,
His coming has not been forgot,
Still He lives and reigns to-day.
Oh, holy one of Bethlehem,
Come be born in us to-day,
"Love divine, all love excelling,"
In our hearts hold perfect sway.
ON RECEIVING A SOUVENIR POST
CARD.
On the little desk before me
A pictured post-card lies,
Fondly I'm looking at it
With saddened tear-dimmed eyes.
The postman came this morning
And brought this card to me,
It was sent from Kentucky, where
My childhood's home used to be.
The rustic sqene in black and white,
Imperfect tho' and small,
Engraved upon this post-card,
Might not interest you at all.
46
Rhymes from the Cumberland
You may not care to look at it,
What matter if you don't;
Your not having any interest, for
This pictured post-card won't.
Make less for me the memories
And thoughts of "ye olden tyme,"
Freighted with love and tenderness
And which to-day entwine.
Fondly around my yearning heart
As with tear-dimmed eyes I gaze
At this bit of scenery and think
Over my childhood days.
I think of one in particular
Who has figured so much in my life,
One to whom I was playmate in childhood
Afterward sweetheart and wife.
There's the winding Sandy river
And the "Big Rocks" by its side,
Where together we've sat fishing,
Or looking across the tide.
Have wondered at the steamboats
Painted in colors gay
On the other side of the river
Smoking and puffing away.
Or at the town in the distant
Sometimes we'd sit and gaze
And dream bright dreams of the future-
Air castles of childhood days.
Rhymes from the Cumberland
And if our thoughts and opinions
On matters would differ then,
We'd fall out and quarrel, but always
Would forgive and make up again.
There's the "forks" in the old country road
Shaded with sycamores cool,
Where each afternoon we parted
On our way home from school.
And he, always courteous and gallant
With manly pride and grace,
Would carry my books and lunch pail
To this our parting place.
Those days are gone, forever gone,
Those care-free days of childhood,
Yet, I would not call them back to live
Over again if I could.
For he, my childhood's playmate,
My girlhood's lover and chum,
Still walks life's pathway with me
And for many years we've come
Sometimes through darkened valleys,
Sometimes on the mountain's height,
Sometimes 'neath cloud-hung heavens,
Sometimes in the sunshine bright.
We are closely united now,
For we're married and we feel
Each other's interests more keenly
And we're chums and lovers stilL
48
Rhymes from the Cumberland
THE 'FRISCO EARTHQUAKE.
While the earth shook and trembled and hungry
flames wild
Leaped skyward as building on building were
piled.
They perish by thousands, fathers and mothers,
Husbands, wives, sisters, sweethearts and broth¬
ers;
The rich and the poor, the high and the low,
In the beautiful city of San Francisco.
Sad, sad was their fate; sad, sad was their fate
In the fair city of the Golden Gate;
In the city of flowers and sunlight,
In the city so gay and so bright,
Sad, ah, sad was their fate!
Death came when the first rosy tints of the
morn
In the eastern sky were beginning to dawn.
What hopes and ambitions were then holding
sway
In the hearts of those people on San 'Frisco bay
When death came to claim them eternity knows,
Eternity knows and can only disclose.
Sad, sad was their fate; sad, sad was their fate
In the fair city of the Golden Gate;
In the city of flowers and sunlight,
In the city so gay and so bright,
Sad, ah, sad was their fate!
Rhymes from the Cumberland
THE "BACHELOR GIRL."
She's no "old maid," she's not afraid
To let you know she's her own "boss,"
She's easy pleased, she's not diseased,
She is not nervous, is not cross.
She's no desire whatever for
Mrs. to precede her name,
The blessedness of singleness
She all her life will proudly claim.
She does not sit around and knit
On baby caps and mittens,
She does not play her time away
With puggy dogs and kittens.
And if a mouse about the house
She sees, she will not jump and scream;
Of handsome beaux and billet doux
The "bachelor girl" does never dream.
She does not puff and frizz and fluff
Her hair, nor squeeze and pad her form.
With painted face, affected grace,
The "bachelor girl" ne'er seeks to charm.
She reads history, biography,
Tales of adventure far and near,
On sea or land, but poetry and
Love stories rarely interest her.
She's lots of wit, and uses it,
Of "horse sense," too, she has a store;
50 Uhymes from the Cumberland
The latest news she always knows,
She scans the daily papers o'er.
Of politics and all the tricks
And schemes that politicians use,
She knows full well and she can tell
With eloquence of them her views.
An athlete that's hard to beat
The "bachelor girl" surely is,-
When playing games she makes good aims
And always strictly minds her "biz."
Amid the hurry and the flurry
Of this life she goes alone,
No matter where you may see her
She seldom has a chaperon.
But when you meet her on the street
At night she has a "32,"
And she can shoot you, bet your boots,
When necessity demands her to.
Her heart is kind and you will find
Her often scattering sunshine bright
Among the poor, and she is sure
To always advocate the right.
On tier pater and her mater
For her support she does not lean,
She'talks and writes of "Woman's Rights"
Ifi language forceful and clean.
She does not shirk, but does her work,
Rhymes from the Cumberland 51
Amid the world's fast hustling whirl,
And come what may, she's here to stay,
The self-supporting "bachelor girl."
THERE'S A MOUND IN WEST VIRGINIA.
in memory of william c. penn.
November 1905.
There's a mound in West Virginia,
Which was made one year ago,
In November's chilly weather
When the earth was wrapped in snow;
When the skies were dull and frowning,
And the birds had flown away
To the warm and sunny South land,
Save dear Robin-red-breast gay.
The dearest treasure which my heart
On earth has ever found,
Sleeps undisturbed underneath
That West Virginia mound.
They tell me 'tis a common thing
To grieve for loved ones gone;
But ah, this fact makes not my grief
More easy to be borne!
The hope that I again shall meet
My dear lost friend somewhere,
In a far more lovely clime than this
'Mid heavenly mansions fair,
Will not remove the sadness from
My yearning spirit weak
52 Rhymes from the Cumberland
Is not enough to keep away
The tear-drops from my cheek.
SOME DAY.
The pathway thou art walking now
With weary feet, dear one,
Hedged in by briers and poison vine,
Bestrewn with sticks and stone:
Oh, grumble not, 'twill lead thee to
A smoother and a better way
Shaded by broad-armed elm trees
And fringed with flowers—some day.
Oh, weary toiling one,
Whose brow is wet with sweat,
Mind not thy task, though it be,
Mind not the scorching heat.
Toil on and sing a little bit
In cheerful tones and gay
While at thy work, and don't forget
There's rest for thee—some day.
And thou, bereaved one,
Why grieve and sorrow on
With low-dropped head and weeping eyes
For loved ones dead and gone.
Believe and trust the Father
Who has taken them away,
Knoweth best and will give them
Again to thee—some day.
Rhymes from the Cumberland 53
Lines written on the fly-leaf of a volume of
poems presented to Mary Elliot Flanery.
Dear Mrs. Flanery:
As your eager eyes peruse
These pages over and again,
These verses sent me by the muse
I'd have you know that not in vain,
You wrote those sincere words of praise
Of me who sprang from humble birth,
Sprang from a race down trod and low,
Cursed, abused, despised of earth.
A pleasant fact it is to know
(Though now it's not Anti-slavery days)
That that same principle possessed
By Sumner, Phillips, Whittier, Stowe
Vibrates within your noble breast,
Which fortune cannot overthrow,
Which ridicule cannot remove.
A heart more generous than your own
To fredom and to human kind
The flight of years have never known,
Have never, never dared to find.
Live long your principles to prove.
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