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 THE I 
 
 SOUTHERN GIRL I 
 AND OTHER POEMS I 
 
 By A L TERRELL | 
 
 iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiininriiiniiiiimniniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiir 
 
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 Copyright, 1920, by Rev. P. L. Terrell 
 
To my children who are my comfort 
 and stay, and to the good people whom 
 I have served in my ministry ; this poem 
 is affectionately dedicated. 
 
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 EP <- 
 
 7 1320 
 
PREFACE 
 
 It is with some degree of pleasure the author 
 has completed the work of this poem. The story 
 told in the poem is a kind of sequel to one writ- 
 ten some years ago, entitled "Una Grame, a 
 Southern Girl in War Times." Yet it is a story 
 complete w^ithin itself. The author has written 
 from his iown experience, and drawn upon his 
 own imagination, and while the story is fiction, 
 he has endeavored to make it true to life in the 
 characters represented in love affairs, and battles 
 for truth and right. There has been an effort 
 also to give it a healthy, moral tone, so that while 
 it may please and entertain, at the same time it 
 may serve the cause of righeousness. There is 
 no claim to excellency in literary art or poetic 
 genius, yet the reader will doubtless find some 
 pleasing pictures that may awaken pleasant 
 memories and touch a responsive chord of the 
 soul. Trusting, therefore, that it may find ap- 
 preciative readers, it is sent forth upon its mis- 
 sion. 
 
 Should pleasing thoughts the heart inspire, 
 
 With love for truth, or good desire, 
 
 Then wing those thoughts with love to fly 
 
 Around the world and never die; 
 
 But live in sweetest sono^. 
 
And should this poem chance to bless 
 Or make one pang of sorrow less, 
 Or cause a throbbing heart to gain 
 More love, it is not writ in vain. 
 But helps to right the wrong. 
 
 At the close of this story we have added some 
 short poems, some of them of a juvenile nature, 
 but we trust they may give some additional 
 pleasure to the read. 
 
 P. L. Terrell. 
 
 ©CL/\597303 
 
 /I 
 
A SOUTHERN GIRL AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY P. L. TERRELL 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 MEETING AND PARTING 
 
 In some fair spot where flowers grow, 
 
 And where the lovely streamlets flow, 
 
 Or in some lonely cave or dell, 
 
 Where nuns and monks once loved to dwell, 
 
 Or on the plain, or in the vale, 
 
 Or on the lake where vessels sail ; 
 
 The poet oft has found a theme 
 
 To ponder o'er in wakeful dream. 
 
 But would you see the grand, sublime. 
 
 Then come with me, and let us climb 
 
 To Western North Carolina heights 
 
 And look upon her wondrous sights, 
 
 Where mountain piled on mountain high 
 
 Reach up and kiss the bright blue sky. 
 
 'Tis there 'mid Smokey's lofty range 
 
 Of mountains that have known no change 
 
 For centuries, we find the home 
 
 Where once the red man loved to roam. 
 
 'Tis there where oft he sought for game, 
 
 He's stamped on many a place a name. 
 
 As Nantahala, rushing stream, 
 
 Where echoed once the panther's scream. 
 
 And Jimalaska, grand old peak 
 
 That stands a monument to speak 
 
6 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 And tell the fame, from sea to sea, 
 
 Of one great chief of Cherokee; 
 
 A remnant of whose noble band 
 
 Still linger in this wondrous land. 
 
 But now the white man has laid his claim, 
 
 "Wliere Indian hunters chased the game. 
 
 And on old Jimalaska's height, 
 
 And 'mid the balsams, lovely sights 
 
 Stand hotels, where the traveller sees 
 
 Sublimest views, and feels the breeze 
 
 That blows from many a mountain peak. 
 
 Which cools the brow and fans the cheek. 
 
 "While in the valleys far below, 
 
 Are fields where waving harvests grow. 
 
 And also there are lovely towns 
 
 With gardens, parks, and fancy grounds, 
 
 As WaJ^lesville, on the Richland creek 
 
 Where visitors from lowlands seek 
 
 A resting place, in ' ' Land of Sky, ' ' 
 
 Where nature 's scenery charms the eye. 
 
 And nearby Waynesville, too, is found 
 
 The famous fair ''Assembly Ground," 
 
 Wliere cooling summer breezes blow 
 
 And where the crystal waters flow. 
 
 There one may look on landscapes fair 
 
 In richest beauty, and 'tis there 
 
 Lake Junalaska, sparkling lake. 
 
 Is seen, whose beauty will awake 
 
 A passion one can scarce control. 
 
 That charms, delights, and thrills the soul. 
 
 And in the good old summer time. 
 
 In that delightful healthful clime, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 The workers for the Lord may find 
 
 A resting place for heart and mind. 
 
 And hear addresses, winged with love 
 
 About God's kingdom from above, 
 
 Till hearts are warmed and faith made strong 
 
 To speed the gospel on and on. 
 
 There in that section, too, are found 
 
 Good homes, where virtue doth abound, 
 
 Whose inmates with conviction strong, 
 
 Contend for right against the wrong. 
 
 Then let us sing of those whose deeds 
 
 Have blessed the lowly in their needs. 
 
 Who stood for right and victory won. 
 
 Of such the ancient bards have sung. 
 
 Come, arm my muse and fire my brain, 
 
 And every struggling thought sustain. 
 
 Be in my soul and kindle there, 
 
 A strong desire to do and dare. 
 
 Uphold the right, that cause defend. 
 
 In word and deed till life shall end. 
 
 Oh, help me sing of those who loved 
 
 The ways of truth, and from above 
 
 They gathered strength and courage drew, 
 
 Which caused them ever to be true. 
 
 Of such we do not quickly tire. 
 
 Because their deeds our hearts inspire 
 
 With love supreme, with love divine, 
 
 To let our light forever shine. 
 
 And guide the weak from sin 's dark night, 
 
 To better ways of truth and right. 
 
 Then listen, harps are tuned and strung. 
 
 To sing of those we count among 
 
THE SOUTHERN 
 
 The tried and true, the brave and strong. 
 
 Who have contended 'gainst the wrong. 
 
 'Twas on a morning bright and fair, 
 
 While briskly blew the chilly air, 
 
 There walked a maiden, Mary Flow, 
 
 That morning through the winter snow. 
 
 For while the sun came up so bright, 
 
 And chased away the gloom of night. 
 
 The air was chilled, so his bright rays. 
 
 Changed not old Snow King's wintry phaze. 
 
 And on that cold, cold, Christmas morn, 
 
 To cheer and comfort hearts forlorn. 
 
 Was like some mission good and true. 
 
 Such as the angels love to do. 
 
 But Mary Flow, made not the claim 
 
 To be an anegl, yet her aim 
 
 Was high and noble, true and good, 
 
 And so she sought as best she could, 
 
 To help the needy in distress, 
 
 And strive to make their sorrows less. 
 
 And on that bright cold Christmas day 
 
 She sought a home not far away, 
 
 And with a precious handsome gift. 
 
 She hoped some gloom from hearts to lift. 
 
 And had you seen her that bright morn. 
 
 With so much beauty to adorn, 
 
 Her lovely face, you'd scarcely dare 
 
 Describe or paint one half so fair. 
 
 For scarce on one could grace bestow. 
 
 More loveliness than she could show. 
 
 Her faults, if any, were so few. 
 
 That naught it seems could nature do, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 9 
 
 To make her graceful form more neat, 
 
 Or shape a figure more complete. 
 
 A head of flowing dark brown hair, 
 
 And rosy cheeks as fresh and fair 
 
 As blooming flowers in beauty dressed. 
 
 Or any maiden e'er possessed. 
 
 A dark brown eye, with luster bright. 
 
 One look would charm you with delight. 
 
 And ivory teeth as white as snow, 
 
 Between her rosy lips would show, 
 
 When they were parted, and a smile 
 
 Of beauty, such as hearts beguile 
 
 Played o'er her face, 'twas then so fair, 
 
 No artist with his brush would care 
 
 To paint a face more fair and sweet, 
 
 Or make a picture more complete. 
 
 That morning as Mary was tramping along. 
 
 And thinking and humming a lovely old song, 
 
 She heard a sharp whistle, and wheeling around 
 
 And looking to see, from whence came the shrill 
 
 sound, 
 She saw a sleigh coming, as swiftly it sped 
 Along by the highway, 'twas dashing ahead. 
 The driver who held the strong reins of the steed 
 That gracefully trotted with liveliest speed, 
 Was one who had once been a soldier in blue. 
 And stood by his colors as firmly and true. 
 As any who fought in the struggle between 
 The North and the South, or that looked on the 
 
 scene, 
 Until the mad conflict and warfare was o'er. 
 
10 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Or marched to the front 'mid the cannon's loud 
 
 roar. 
 And now that the smoke of the battle was gone, 
 And days that were brighter beginning to dawn, 
 This gallant young hero was spending some days 
 Down South, and was learning her people and 
 
 ways. 
 And chanced on that morning sleigh riding to go. 
 For even in Dixie we sometimes have snow. 
 And he who was dashing that morning with 
 
 speed, 
 And holding the reins of the lively young steed, 
 Had once been a soldier, the young Captain Bly, 
 As Mary discovered, when he had drawn nigh. 
 Now when he beheld her, he stopped by her side 
 And gallantly asked her to step in and ride. 
 She heeded the offer, so kindly presented 
 It would have been folly for her to resented. 
 Now onward they glide o'er the beautiful snow. 
 Soon reaching the station to which she would go. 
 She entered the home, with a bright smiling face 
 Which drove away sadness and gloom from the 
 
 place. 
 Like an angel of mercy in kindness she wrought, 
 And soon had dispensed with the gifts she had 
 
 brcught. 
 She then bade the inmates a friendly goodbye, 
 Went back to the sleigh where she d left Captain 
 
 Bly. 
 And when she was seated again by his side. 
 She said, "If you're ready, now homeward we'll 
 
 ride." 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 11 
 
 Soon sleigh-bells were ringing and onward they 
 
 flew, 
 As fast as wild deer when hunters pursue. 
 And as they went dashing so smoothly along, 
 The captain asked Mary to sing a sweet song ; 
 A song with a sentiment lovely and true. 
 And one that would charm him, a song that was 
 
 new. 
 Said he, "When I hear it, wherever I be, 
 I'll think of the singer who sang it for me." 
 A smile of rich beauty then played o 'er her face, 
 And in all her loveliness, sweetness and grace. 
 She then began singing, her voice was heard. 
 As sweet as the tones from the throat of a bird. 
 She sang for the captain that morning this song, 
 And sang it so sweetly while dashing along. 
 "When flowers bloom, as bloom they will, 
 I'll pluck one then for thee. 
 And trust your heart with love may fill, 
 While you pluck one for me; 
 Yes one, pluck one for me." 
 "And when its beauty fades away, 
 Will love be living still, 
 Or will it like the flower decay. 
 No more your heart to thrill. 
 Oh ! never more to thrill ? ' ' 
 "Then will you cast the flower aside 
 And think no more of one. 
 Whose love is as the rising tide, 
 And true as yonder sun, 
 Yes, true as yonder sun." 
 
12 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 ''0! if I thought it thus would be, 
 My song would turn to sigh; 
 Sweet music's charm be lost to me, 
 And hope and fancy die. 
 Yes, hope and fancy die." 
 
 The song was hushed, yet on they go, 
 
 As swiftly they glide o'er the snow. 
 
 And merrily, too, the time goes bv. 
 
 Yet all too fast for Captain Bly, 
 
 For he would dare prolong the ride. 
 
 Could he keep Mary by his side. 
 
 But soon her home came into view, 
 
 As it they neared the reins he drew. 
 
 The panting steed then slacked his trot, 
 
 And soon stood still upon the spot. 
 
 And when they from the sleigh stepped out. 
 
 Said he, ''I'm sure, without a doubt 
 
 Your presence lent this drive delight. 
 
 And helped to make the pathway bright." 
 
 "0, well," the smiling girl replied, 
 
 "I thank you for the splendid ride, 
 
 I'm pleased if I, instead of harm. 
 
 Have added to the drive a charm." 
 
 '' 'Tis true you have," said he. ''I know 
 
 That you liave power to bestow 
 
 With your bright face and smiles complete, 
 
 A charm on all you chance to meet." 
 
 Then as he bowed to her good-bye, 
 
 A friendly look flashed from her eye, 
 
 Wliich had such power to bestow 
 
 A blessino- full to overflow, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 13 
 
 That in his hand he held hers till 
 His bounding heart was made to thrill 
 With bliss, and thoughtless of delay, 
 It caused him to prolong his stay. 
 And linger for a little while. 
 To catch once more her radiant smile. 
 Then quickly turning to the sleigh. 
 And stepping in he sped away. 
 All heedless that the maiden gave, 
 With her fair hand a good-bye wave, 
 And watched him in his rapid flight, 
 Until he passed beyond her sight. 
 
14 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SPRING-TIME 
 
 The flowers of spring once more have bloomed, 
 
 And insect life that's been intombed 
 
 Through winter months, again appears. 
 
 And old Frost-king dissolves in tears. 
 
 The south winds blow, the balmy breeze 
 
 Is felt among the forest trees. 
 
 The mating birds are heard to sing. 
 
 Their songs of love, their songs of spring. 
 
 The apple blossoms in full bloom, 
 
 Give to the air a rich perfume. 
 
 All nature smiles and sings a song, 
 
 That cheers the heart and makes it strong. 
 
 And yonder in a shady bower, 
 
 A maiden whiles away an hour, 
 
 And now and then, a radiant smile 
 
 Plays o'er her face, then for a while, 
 
 She seems absorbed in deepest thought. 
 
 As if some holy truth was sought. 
 
 The sunbeams sparkling in the dew. 
 
 Have never warmed a heart more true; 
 
 Than beat within that maiden's breast, 
 
 Who chanced within that bower to rest. 
 
 Nor had the breeze from mountain peak 
 
 E'er found or fanned a fairer cheek. 
 
 Or played with richer locks of hair, 
 
 Or breathed upon a face more fair. 
 
 Than she possessed, who in that hour, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 15 
 
 Was resting 'neath the shady bower. 
 The smile that shone upon her face 
 Spake love, which angel hearts embrace, 
 And should one have from week to week 
 For search, 'twould all be vain to seek, 
 A richer, sweeter smile of love. 
 This side the golden gates above; 
 Nor would the searcher, though inclined 
 To look for beauties, ever find, 
 A richer charm beneath the sky. 
 Than flashed forth from that maiden's eye. 
 But see, she lifts her head to hear, 
 The sounds of footsteps drawing near. 
 Still on they come with measured pace, 
 Until at length she saw a face 
 She recognized, and then with joy. 
 As when a child has found a toy. 
 At once her merry laugh rang out, 
 And then a young man wheeled about, 
 He saw and spoke, ' ' Can Mary fly 
 Beyond the reaches of mine eye? 
 I've sought you 'mid the field and flower 
 And found you in this shady bower. 
 Now here amid the apple bloom 
 That scents the air with rich perfume. 
 We'll let the happy moments fly, 
 And talk together, you and I." 
 Thus Captain Bly and Mary Flow, 
 Since that sleigh ride upon the snow. 
 Had often chanced to meet of late. 
 And mutual friendship cultivate. 
 But while the moments they employed 
 
It THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 In happy converse, and enjoyed 
 
 The balmy breezes as they blew, 
 
 Some glances backward memory threw. 
 
 To Captain Bly there sometimes came, 
 
 A picture of fair Una Grame. 
 
 And so he mused a little while. 
 
 And thought of her sweet winning smile. 
 
 But when he met her, met her last. 
 
 The shades of disappointment cast 
 
 A gloom across his path, and made 
 
 His brightest hopes to droop and fade. 
 
 Though while he wore the sword and shield, 
 
 And marched upon the battle field. 
 
 His deeds of bravery placed his name 
 
 Upon the brightest roll of fame. 
 
 And well he knew 'twas there enrolled, 
 
 Among the heroes brave and bold. 
 
 'Twas not, therefore, no honor won. 
 
 That caused his day to have no sun. 
 
 But oft he thought of Una Grame, 
 
 Though he'd relinquished ev'ry claim 
 
 To win that prize, her heart and hand, 
 
 He saw he'd built upon the sand. 
 
 And yet, because his suit was vain 
 
 His heart would sometimes still complain, 
 
 And cheerful songs would turn to sigh, 
 
 No music seemed to satisfy. 
 
 For fancy's brightest joy had fled, 
 
 And hope and love were cold and dead. 
 
 Yes, dead seemed hope, and dead his heart. 
 No spark of love burned there ; 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 17 
 
 It seemed that none would ever more 
 His warm affections share. 
 And thus it was till Mary Flow 
 Had proved it yet alive. 
 She touched the chords of love again, 
 • And bade them to revive. 
 So, listening to the spring birds' song, 
 He sat and though for e'er so long. 
 Of gone by days, how swift they pass, 
 And Una Grame, the charming lass. 
 And of the time when last they met, 
 'Twas fresh upon his memory yet. 
 And since the day he bade adieu 
 To that fair girl he loved so true. 
 He ne'er had felt so much the power 
 Of woman's charms as at this hour. 
 And so thought he, "I surely could." 
 And in his heart he said he would 
 Forever let fair Una go, 
 To win the charming Mary Flow. 
 So, with a trembling voice he told 
 The story new, yet ever old, 
 Of how her presence charmed and thrilled 
 His heart with love, and more than filled 
 His inmost nature with a tide 
 Of love's strong passion, deep and wide. 
 Said he, "My dear, would you be mine, 
 And let me be forever thine? 
 It would complete my happiness. 
 Could I your heart, your love possess. 
 I'd prize it more than rubies bright, 
 Or all the treasurer brought to light. 
 
18 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 For there is naught that's ever found, 
 Though we might search the world aroimd, 
 We value higher, or above 
 The price of a true woman's love. 
 Then will you not, dear one, decide, 
 To be my charming, lovely bride? 
 Will you not be the star of life, 
 To guide me in this world of strife ? 
 Then be my own dear loving wife. 
 Yes, be my own, my brightest prize. 
 Of all the treasures 'neath the skies. 
 Could I but know e'er we should part, 
 That I had gained your love, your heart, 
 That love, as rich and pure and true, 
 As sunbeams glittering in the dew, 
 'Twould be enough, enough for me. 
 My life unclouded then would be. 
 With every lingering doubt withdrawn, 
 As fresh as light at rising dawn. 
 Then I would guard you and defend 
 And comfort you till life should end." 
 A moment's silence; then 'twas broke. 
 And next it was the maiden spoke. 
 She heard his words, caught every tone, 
 Then blushing said, "I'll be thy own. 
 My heart is thine, may nothing sever. 
 But may our love be true forever. 
 Although you once have worn the blue. 
 And I for Dixie stood as true. 
 And twixt us seemed a chasm wide. 
 With love 'tis bridged from side to side." 
 The vow was made and now they part, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 19 
 
 But each had gained and given a heart. 
 
 When Mary reached her home once more, 
 
 And passed the threshold of the door, 
 
 Her aunt, who saw from Mary's eye 
 
 A flash that told that Captain Bly 
 
 Had won her love, had won her heart. 
 
 Then vowed that aunt, "I'll act my part, 
 
 I'll see that vow is snapped in twain, 
 
 And Mary's promise shall be vain. 
 
 For she must wed one rich and great, 
 
 I '11 see to that ; it 's not too late. ' ' 
 
 The aunt had taken mother's place. 
 
 And of that mother's lovely face 
 
 Fair Mary scarce remembered aught. 
 
 For when a little child untaught, 
 
 Her mother clasped her in her arms. 
 
 And fondly gazing on her charms. 
 
 She held her for a little while. 
 
 Then with her last sweet lingering smile. 
 
 Passed from all earthly toil and care, 
 
 To where she might forever share. 
 
 In that fair land where life's stream flows, 
 
 The bliss of heaven's sweet repose. 
 
 And with the pure angelic choir, 
 
 Sweep harps of gold and never tire. 
 
 Now this old aunt with foolish pride. 
 
 Had been swept out on fashion's tide, 
 
 Till wealth with her was all the go. 
 
 She cared for naught but style and show. 
 
 Too well she loved the wheel and whirl 
 
 Of fashion, in this sinful world. 
 
 And so her neice, she'd vowed of late 
 
20 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Should Tved with one whom she thought great. 
 
 And now to break the match between 
 
 These lovers, she to wrong would lean, 
 
 Forsake the ways of truth and right, 
 
 And practice fraud of blackest night. 
 
 So she decided, in her heart. 
 
 These lovers should be kept apart. 
 
 Therefore, she'd send her niece away, 
 
 To school at once, without delay. 
 
 'Twas then reported, then 'twas said, 
 
 With Vincen Hair, the girl had fled. 
 
 But 'twas to New York she'd been sent, 
 
 And then in order to prevent 
 
 One word from reaching Captain Bly, 
 
 On the postoffice kept an eye. 
 
 For she the office kept herself. 
 
 Being postmistress, sly old elf. 
 
 And every letter sent to Bly, 
 
 Before he saw it, met her eye. 
 
 And so the captain thought 'twas true. 
 
 That Mary Flow had proved untrue. 
 
 And felt so wretched, so undone. 
 
 He almost wishes his race was run. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 RESCUED FROM PERIL 
 
 One night when all without was dark, 
 Except the glow worm's glimmering spark, 
 Wliich shined with such a feeble ray, 
 'T would only make you wish for day. 
 And on that same dark, dreary night. 
 Within a room burned one dim light. 
 And there within that lonely place, 
 There sits a girl with care worn face, 
 And watching by the lone bedside. 
 Of one to whom it seemed she tried 
 To guess his wants, tend ev'ry sigh. 
 Soothe ev'ry pain, at least to try. 
 And she had watched and waited there, 
 And ministered with kindest care. 
 From early morning till the night 
 Had chased away the rays of light. 
 And he who lay upon that bed. 
 And almost wished that he was dead. 
 Was Major Flow, who once so well 
 Commanded those who fought and fell. 
 For Southern homes, and Southern cause. 
 Her ways, her customs, and her laws. 
 But drink had plunged him into shame. 
 And brought reproach upon his name. 
 For he'd been drinking hard and long. 
 Although he knew, well knew, 'twas wrong. 
 Yet on he drank and sank so low, 
 
22 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 That he knew not that Mary Flow 
 His lovely daughter, who now tried 
 To tend his wants, watched by his side 
 i^ rom that sad day, the dav she left 
 Her home, she'd felt herself bereft 
 Of pleasure, which was hers by right 
 But had been snatched away through ^pite. 
 Away to New York she'd been sent 
 Against her will, and her consent 
 From him she loved she'd had no word 
 And like a lone forsaken bird 
 Wheii Its fond mate has fled and gone 
 So she was left, sad and forlorn 
 And when her days in school were o'er 
 A lingering sadness pressed her sore 
 And made her feel, and think that she 
 
 JoTlu T \'' ^'^^ ^^^^' ^-^^^ to see 
 't1 '^'f^'.^^ and pleasures gone 
 Twas night without a rising dawn. 
 At length she joined a Temperance band 
 Jound work for heaJ, and heart, and hand. 
 
 She helped the fallen, tried to win. 
 And bring them back from awys of sin 
 And help them do the right 
 Teach tnem to look for brighter days 
 
 As children of the light. 
 
 To give to those some friendly aid, 
 Wh. far from God have sadly straW 
 And sank m deep distress " ' 
 
 To guide Ihem to that home above 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 23 
 
 Wlieie Ood in His infinite love, 
 Their souls will ever bless. 
 
 A noble work to teach that one 
 Who's fallen, wrecked by sin undone, 
 May be at last forgiven, 
 And enter in the path of right, 
 Walk with the children of the light, 
 The way that leads to heaven. 
 
 'Twas on such a mission one morning as this, 
 A mission that surely would bring with it bliss, 
 That Mary had entered, and hastened away. 
 Not dreaming her father she'd meet with that 
 
 day. 
 Yet strange as it may be, she entered a room, 
 And there in deep sorrow, and sadness and 
 
 gloom. 
 She saw in a corner upon a low bed. 
 Her father reclining, as though he was dead. 
 Surprised to behold him, she doubted her sight. 
 But gazing intently, convinced she was right, 
 Exclaimed, ''Ohl my father, my father, she 
 
 cried 
 ' ' For you I have sorrowed, have wept, and have 
 
 sighed. ' ' 
 But to his fair daughter he made no reply ; 
 His answer was only a groan and a sigh. 
 The last time she saw him he headed a band. 
 The bravest of soldiers in Dixie's fair land. 
 Who fought for the Southland, so gallant and 
 
 That soldiers who dressed in the uniform blue, 
 
24 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Were made to respect them, and dread them as 
 
 well, 
 For none acted braver mid shot and the shell. 
 But since she last saw him, how changed did he 
 
 seem, 
 She thought, '^s this father, or do I but dream " 
 Oh, then he was gallant, and noble, and brave. 
 He looked like a hero, but now seems a slave. 
 But since she last saw him, he's fought with his 
 
 might. 
 For that which he thought was the cause of the 
 
 right. 
 
 And then when the mad warfare and fightino- 
 was o'er, '^ 
 
 And when the loud cannos had ceased their mad 
 roar. 
 
 And soldiers disbanded were pressing to meet 
 The dear ones at home, and their loved ones to 
 greet. 
 
 Then he thought with others, that pleasur- to 
 taste, 
 
 And homeward was pressing, no time did he 
 
 waste. 
 But sad as it may be, some foes to annoy, 
 Before he had tasted that cup of glad joy, 
 Contrived to arrest him, and charged him 'with 
 
 crime, 
 And though he was innocent, yet for a time 
 Was held as a prisoner, and thus kept awav' 
 From home and from loved ones for many a day 
 But when the vile charges could not be sustained 
 And when his glad freedom once more was re- 
 gained. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 25 
 
 A twelve months had passed by, a twelve months 
 
 or more, 
 Since clash of the warfare had ceased its mad 
 
 roar, 
 Again he was ready, was ready to start, 
 Go back to the loved ones so dear to his heart. 
 But then to the Major, so valiant and bold. 
 To him the sad story, false story was told,' 
 His beautiful daughter with a villain had fled. 
 And theii 'twas reported to him she was dead. 
 And so in his sadness he wanted to roam 
 Away from his country and from his wrecked 
 
 home. 
 'Twas then in his weakness, his sorrow and grief, 
 He foolishly ventured to drink for relief. 
 Oh, curse of all curses, beneath it he suiik 
 In the meshes of sin, and now was so drunk 
 He knew not iiis daughter, who sat by his side. 
 That daughter who once was his comfort and 
 
 pride. 
 Still watching beside him till reason returned, 
 She spoke to him kindly, then slowly he learned 
 'Twas Mary that watched him with kindness 
 
 and care. 
 Still willing his sadness and sorrow to share. 
 He eyed her a moment, but hardly believed 
 That this was his daughter for whom he had 
 
 grieved. 
 Still gazing intently, at length he exclaimed, 
 '' 'Tis you, my dear daughter, I meet you again, 
 But now you have found me, all sunken, debased. 
 Yes, found me a sinner, all wrecked and dis- 
 
 srraced. 
 
26 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 But will you forgive me and help me to win 
 My freedom from drinking, my freedom from 
 
 sin?" 
 Once more he attempted to speak, but in vain, 
 For words were too feeble, they could not explain 
 The depth of emotion that swept through his 
 
 soul, 
 Like flood tides when rising beyond our control. 
 For conscience now smote him, yes conscience 
 
 now smote, 
 And words he would Titter seemed choked in his 
 
 throat. 
 And while his lips quivered, he beckoned her 
 
 come, 
 And quickly around him her arms she had flung. 
 The father was this time the prodigal son. 
 The daughter receiving — not father, the son. 
 O'ercome by emotion they mingled their tears, 
 And told of their sorrows, their hopes and their 
 
 fears. 
 Then Mary related some things of the past. 
 How over her pathway the shadows were cast. 
 She spoke of her burdens and told of her loss. 
 How friends had deluded, how heavy the cross. 
 When ended her story, her father then knew, 
 To virtue's commandment she'd ever been true. 
 And never had fallen, and never had sought 
 To wed with a villain as once he had thought. 
 And deeply repenting he said, ''For your sake 
 I'll never, no never, I'll never partake 
 Again of the wine-cup. I'll never more drink. 
 And under this demon no more will I sink." 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 27 
 
 That pledge by the father had scarcely been 
 
 made, 
 And prayers had ascended for heavenly aid, 
 When the door was thrown open— and by 'the 
 
 dim light. 
 That shown in the darkness and gloom of the 
 
 night. 
 
 Was revealed to the inmates the form and the 
 
 face 
 Of one they would wish not to see in that place 
 Twas one who had offered fair Mary to wed. 
 Of whom 'twas reported that with him she'd 
 
 fled. 
 
 But he, having sought for her heart and her 
 
 hand. 
 And failing to win her, had wilfully planned. 
 To rob her poor father, and take what he had' 
 Then leave him to go to the world of the bad.' 
 And this was the lover the aunt though was rich, 
 Now poor as the poorest who work in the ditch,' 
 For he was now sunken, a victim of drink. 
 His fortune all wasted he stood on the brink 
 Of wretchedness, misery, of darkness and gloom, 
 With character ruined, and waiting his doom.' 
 He lived now by gambling, by robbery and theft, 
 And cared not for orphans, or widows, bereft' 
 But often would enter the homes of the poor. 
 And leave them no mite of their pitiful store.' 
 'Twas thus he had entered this room with intent. 
 To take from the inmates their very last cent. 
 ''And now," said he to Major Flow, 
 "You are my prisoner, and must show 
 Your money now. 
 
28 
 
 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 For it no longer shall be thine, ^ 
 But every cent must soon be mine, 
 
 Oh! this I vow. 
 
 Your daughter's hand, once sought by me, 
 I then would have befriended thee. 
 But now I'll not; 
 But I can kill thee and not wait. 
 Since love has turned to burning hate. 
 Upon this spot. 
 
 I'll take thy life or money one. 
 As sure as night shuts out the sun. 
 So now bring forth all that is thine. 
 Or vou shall feel this sword of mine." 
 ''How dare you thus," the Major said, 
 "To threaten my life's blood to shed." 
 "Enough! enough! I'll hear no more," 
 Eeplied the villain. But before 
 Another word could have been said, 
 Just at the door was heard the tread 
 Of someone rushing in his might, 
 And by the dim and glimmering light. 
 Was seen the form of Captain Bly ; 
 The robber turned and caught his eye. 
 He seemed to wither 'neath that look, 
 His stalwart form then trembling shook. 
 But rallying from his first surprise. 
 Enraged because he'd lost his prize, 
 He drew his sword and made a dash, 
 Now sword on sword was heard to clash. 
 The Captain wielded off the stroke, 
 Then to the villain thus he spoke: 
 * ' This kind of warfare seems quite rare. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 29 
 
 In this, our day, and yet you dare 
 
 To fight with sword, to kill, to slay, 
 
 And now since you've begun this fray. 
 
 Surrender, sir, or you shall feel 
 
 The vengeance of this pointed steel." 
 
 "Surrender, Captain, no, not I; 
 
 Surrender, no! I'd sooner die. 
 
 But you shall know my extra skill. 
 
 This moment, sir, your blood I'll spill." 
 
 Then with drawn swords they each advance, 
 
 And each is watching for a chance 
 
 To strike a sure, a fatal blow, 
 
 A stroke that will bring down his foe. 
 
 Once more they at each other dash. 
 
 Again their swords are heard to clash. 
 
 A desperate struggle then ensued. 
 
 Their swords with blood were soon imbued. 
 
 Enraged, more furious grew the strife, 
 
 The contest now was life for life! 
 
 Fast fell the strokes, 'twas hilt to hilt, 
 
 And freely was the blood they spilt. 
 
 At length by one tremendous blow 
 
 The Captain sank beneath his foe ; 
 
 And yet the edge being turned aside 
 
 'Twas only by the sword's broadside 
 
 That he was struck, and stunned and fell. 
 
 But rising as by magic spell. 
 
 With all his courage and his might. 
 
 More bravely still renewed the fight. 
 
 Like David, who with sling and stone. 
 
 Had met the giant all alone, 
 
 In his great name, who rules on high, 
 
 He meant to conquer now or die. 
 
30 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 With all Ills might his foe he grasped, 
 His fingers 'round his throat he clasped, 
 And then with all his power and strength, 
 He pressed him, till his foe at length. 
 Fell back and cried for mercy's aid, 
 Wliile Bly drew forth his gleaming blade, 
 But staid the stroke, when mercy's plea 
 Had reached his ear, he said : " To thee 
 I grant thy life. But thou must know 
 I could now make thy life blood flow; 
 But mercy may and shall be thine. 
 Yet thou shall answer for this crime." 
 The Major would have given aid 
 In this fierce battle, but was staid 
 By weakness, therefore, he could do 
 Nothing but watch the struggle through. 
 And his fair daughter, while the fight 
 "Was raging, almost sank with fright. 
 And when the Captain turned to see. 
 Of what assistance he might be 
 To Mary, who was filled with fear. 
 Then Vincen Hare, like wounded deer. 
 As quickly from the room he fled. 
 Though from his wounds he freely bled. 
 The contest o'er, the blood}^ strife 
 Had ended without loss of life. 
 But Bly was bleeding from his wounds, 
 A surgeon quickly must be found. 
 So Mary Flow, as quick as thought. 
 Dashed off and soon the help was brought. 
 Then with her own fair gentle hand. 
 As loving woman only can, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 Like some fair nymph from fairyland, 
 With all the skill which they possess,' 
 She helped his bleeding wounds to dress. 
 And hoped and prayed he'd be restored 
 From wounds inflicted by the sword. 
 
 31 
 
32 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A VICTORY FOR RIGHT OVER LOVE'S 
 STRONG PASSION 
 
 A week or more had passed away, 
 
 Since that dark night and dread affray, 
 
 When Ely had fought the wily foe, 
 
 Who tried to rob brave Major Flow, 
 
 When he again with Mary met, 
 
 And found that she still loved him yet, 
 
 And when the joyful truth he learned. 
 
 How love's strong passion ever burned 
 
 Within her heart, then he renewed 
 
 His pledge of love, again he sued 
 
 For heart and hand of that fair maid. 
 
 Again to her his homage paid. 
 
 "Till I can own you as my bride," 
 
 Said he, "I'll ne'er be satisfied, 
 
 0, may I hope we ne'er shall part. 
 
 And you'll be all my own, 
 
 And reign supreme within my heart. 
 
 For it shall be thy throne." 
 
 Then she replied, "Kind sir, I know. 
 
 My heart has e'er been true, 
 
 If there is one to whom I owe 
 
 My all, it is to you. 
 
 "True love is like the rising tide, 
 
 Whose waves can ne'er be staid, 
 
 That passion strong and deep and wide. 
 
 My soul has e'er obeyed. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 33 
 
 That passion strong and deep and wide, 
 
 My soul has e'er obeyed. 
 
 ''But now, kind sir, I must refrain, 
 
 My vow I cannot break, 
 
 I fear you're bound by stronger chain, 
 
 Than mortal man can make. 
 
 ' ' That chain, the habit of strong drink, 
 It now perfumes your breath, 
 That habit, sir, your soul may sink. 
 May sink in endless death. 
 
 ''And I have vowed, again I vow, 
 Though it may give me pain, ^ 
 
 It cannot be, remember now. 
 My heart you cannot gain. 
 
 "My word is pledged, I'll never take 
 The man who takes his dram. 
 I fear if I that vow should break 
 That God my soul would damn." 
 
 "Surprised," said he, "that you should be 
 So foolishly inclined. 
 Since I have been so true to thee. 
 Indeed is this your mind?" 
 
 "Why then I fear that you've professed, 
 More than you've truly been, 
 And I your love have ne'er possessed x 
 
 And ne'er can hope to win. 
 
^4 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 "So I alas, bid you adieu, 
 
 I see your love has proved untrue, 
 
 Like clouds that gather then disperse. 
 
 They promise rain, but leave the earth 
 
 All parched and dried with unquenched thirst. 
 
 Leave flower to wither, droop and die, 
 
 Beneath a clear and burning sky. 
 
 So you have caused my soul to sing 
 
 One note of joy, but nmv vou wring 
 
 My heart with keenest grief and pain, 
 
 And hush the music's sweet refrain. 
 
 You've raised my hopes, then blasted all, 
 
 And all my sweetness turns to gall " 
 
 ^Oh! well," said she, "If you could know, 
 
 Or it I could but truly show 
 
 The depths of love, how true and strono- 
 
 You'd know that you had judged me wroiig 
 
 It now the temperance pledge vou '11 sign, 
 
 And give up drink, I'll then be thine 
 
 les, when your love is truly shown, 
 
 I then will gladly be thy own." 
 
 ''You foolish girl," he then replied 
 
 In me I see you don't confide. 
 
 You doubt my honor, count me weak, 
 
 Adieu, no more thy heart I'll seek " 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PLEASANT SCENES' THEN STORMS 
 ARISE 
 
 There's naught that e'er a soul possessed 
 Or rankled in a human breast, 
 That gives more bitterness and pain 
 AYithin the heart, than cruel reign 
 Of disappointed love, whose power 
 Is felt and suffered eyery hour. 
 Such was the grief which Mary knew 
 Since Captain Bly bade her adieu. 
 But why, thought she, "Oh, why should I 
 In weakness weep, complain and die. 
 The cup of bliss was dashed aside, 
 Before its sweetness I had tried. 
 But I'll submit. My God will lead. 
 Hath not his Providence decreed. 
 I'll trust Him still, I'll trust Him yet, 
 His me."cies I will ne'er lorget. 
 My life I will not throw away. 
 Nor faith, nor hope, shall ne'er decay." 
 Yet days like some slow beast to her 
 Seemed now to need the whip and spur, 
 But strength and '^our.ige v ere not dea^i, 
 And so at length one day she said, 
 "I'll seek and find a iiome once more, 
 Beyond the city's rush and roar, 
 Wliere my dear father, now rescued 
 May dwell in peace and quietude. 
 
36 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Then I'll pursue life's noble aims, 
 And faithfully meet duty's claims." 
 The purposed plan and soon 'twas met, 
 Not many suns had rose and set, 
 Till Mary and her father dwelt. 
 Within a village, where they felt 
 Secure from foes, secure from fears. 
 Where hope might drive away their tears. 
 But when they'd been there for a while, 
 Although they loved the friendly smile 
 Of many whom they often met. 
 And never, never will forget. 
 Yet still the father often sighed. 
 Sighed for the Southland, 'twas his pride. 
 So when a few more weeks had fled. 
 He one day to his daughter said, 
 ''I think we shall return right soon. 
 To where the Southern flowers bloom. 
 I wish to see my home again, 
 Sometimes I hardly can refrain, 
 I'm drawn as by a magic chain 
 To see the land I love so well. 
 For which brave heroes fought and fell." 
 At length the day was set to start, 
 Then Mary knew soon she must part. 
 With loving friends, however true. 
 Soon she must bid them all adieu. 
 So one bright morning, bright and fair, 
 She dressed herself with taste and care, 
 And then without undue delay, 
 She thought to see a friend that day. 
 Whose home was in the country found 
 Some miles beyond the village bound. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 37 
 
 So mounting on a trusty steed 
 
 She dashed along at lively speed, 
 
 Until as it was her design 
 
 Soon left the village far behind. 
 
 At length beneath a giant oak, 
 
 Beyond the cloud of village smoke, 
 
 Where birds of song in early dawn 
 
 Make music in the shady lawn, 
 
 A home, a lovely home she found. 
 
 Where brightest flowers bloomed around. 
 
 It seemed a place where nature dressed 
 
 Herself in robes, robes of the best, 
 
 A lovely streamlet flowed near by. 
 
 Whose sparkling waves would charm the eye, 
 
 And as o'er rocks those waves would break 
 
 The sweetest music seemed to make. 
 
 Then on it sw^pt through meadows wide. 
 
 On, on where ebbs and flows the tide. 
 
 'Twas there that natures hand 'twould seem 
 
 Hard by this crystal flowing stream. 
 
 Had lavishly her beauties strown. 
 
 And thus prepared it for a home. 
 
 'Twas there amid the shady trees. 
 
 Where sung the gentle zephyr breeze, 
 
 A mansion stood, whose porches wide, 
 
 Would seem to say, ''Come in, abide. 
 
 There's room enough within this wall, 
 
 There's room and welcome here for all." 
 
 'Twas there that Mary met her friend. 
 
 And like the rays of light that blend 
 
 In harmony, the hours passed 
 
 In sweet communion, till at last 
 
 The time arrived when she must start 
 
38 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Back to the village, aud must part 
 With her kind friend, as well she knew, 
 So biddng her a fond abieii, 
 Was soon upon the great highway, 
 And hastening on without delay. 
 But when she'd gone a mile or two 
 Along the highway which she knew, 
 She met a little girl who tried 
 To tell her as she wept and cried, 
 How her mama, who she said 
 Was sick and suffering in her bed. 
 And in her sadness and her grief. 
 Was surely needing some relief, 
 Her papa too, she tremblingly said, 
 ''My own dear papa, he is dead." 
 Now Mary's heart as you may know. 
 Was touched by this sad tale of woe. 
 Therefore, she turned aside to see 
 If she might not some service be 
 To one, who in this world of strife. 
 Was struggling with the ills of life. 
 And in a little cottage home 
 She found the sick one all alone. 
 ''Twas there she spent an hour of more. 
 Before she left that cottage door. 
 But Avhen she'd rendered some relief. 
 And tried to drive away the grief. 
 That pressed a lonely 'widow's heart. 
 Once more prepared herself to start. 
 But when again upon her steed, 
 She saw that she must ride with speed. 
 If she would reach her stopping place, 
 E'er sun had run his daily race. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 39 
 
 For low, SO low he'd drawn his line, 
 
 That now askant began to shine. 
 
 And soon the darker shades would tell, 
 
 The time when rung the Curfew bell. 
 
 But in her haste she lost her way, 
 
 A while before the close of day. 
 
 And just before the sun had set 
 
 To make things all more gloomy yet. 
 
 Toward the far off western skies 
 
 Some stormy clouds were seen to rise. 
 
 And as those clouds began tc spread, 
 
 Poor Mary's heart was filled with dread. 
 
 She heard the muttering thunder roar ; 
 
 The clouds were thickening more and more ; 
 
 The elements semd black as night. 
 
 And birds and beast seemed filled with fright, 
 
 Yet on the clouds in fury dashed. 
 
 On their dark bosom often flashed 
 
 The vivid lightening, then the cloud 
 
 Seemed riven by the thunder loud. 
 
 While echoes answered boom to boom. 
 
 And darker, denser seemed the gloom. 
 
 Then while those muttering thunders rolled, 
 
 The wind, like some huge lion bold. 
 
 In all their fury and their haste 
 
 Leaped forth as from their hiding place, 
 
 And over the hills and plains they dashed, 
 
 While rain descended, lightening flashed. 
 
 And then again from angry cloud, 
 
 Burst forth the thunders, long and loud. 
 
 'Twas thus the storm in fury raged. 
 
 And while all nature seemed engaged 
 
 In maddening strife, like wretched fiends, 
 
40 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 The gloom and terror of the scenes 
 
 Was still more dreadful, since the night, 
 
 Had shut out every ray of light, 
 
 Except the lightening 's vivid ^sp'ark 
 
 Whose flash when gone, it seemed more dark. 
 
 Now Mary in her great alarm 
 
 Bewildered in this dreadful storm, 
 
 Was undecided what to do. 
 
 She's lost her way, she fully knew. 
 
 How far it was she did not know. 
 
 How far that she might have to go. 
 
 Before she'd find a dwelling place, 
 
 Or met a friendly human face. 
 
 So while she pondered what to do. 
 
 While the fierce winds around her blew, 
 
 She heard, she thought, a horse's tread,' 
 
 And nearer still the footsteps lead ; 
 
 She waited till she found them near. 
 
 And then her voice rang sweet and clear, 
 
 ''Who comes, who comes, I'm in distress, 
 
 I seek for shelter, seek for rest." 
 
 'I^Oh, ho, you fair one, and 'tis true 
 
 The road you took I surelv knew 'i 
 
 Would lead you wrong, and then thought I, i 
 
 1 11 capture her, at least I'll try. J 
 
 So you my captive e'er shall be, 
 
 Till I see cause to set you free." J 
 
 ''And who are you?'* the maiden cried. 
 
 And why should you mv fate decide | 
 
 IVe just escaped the dread alarm 
 And thankfully wihtout much harm. 
 The fury of the raging cloud. 
 And lightning flash, and thunders loud, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 41 
 
 And now I hope the storm may cease 
 
 And I'll find shelter, rest, and peace." 
 
 ''Oh, well," his sterner voice replied, 
 
 ''My will you've long enough defied. 
 
 So now, my pretty Mary Flow, 
 
 I'm Vincent Hare, and you shall know 
 
 That I have caught you in my net, 
 
 And though bedrabbled, cold, and wet, 
 
 I vow upon this lonely spot. 
 
 Whether it be your will or not. 
 
 My bride you'll be, or you shall die, 
 
 You 're in my grasp and dare not fly. ' ' 
 
 But on that dark and stormy night, 
 
 Another horseman rode. 
 
 'Twas captain Bly, who longed for light, 
 
 As rain in torrents flowed. 
 
 Yet on he dashed at. any cost. 
 
 For he had learned the truth. 
 
 That Mary Flow perhaps was lost. 
 
 And in the storm forsooth, 
 
 She needed help, a friendly arm 
 
 That she might lean upon. 
 
 Some one to shield her from alarm, 
 
 He wished to be that one. 
 
 So storm and cloud could not detain 
 
 Him in his eager chase. 
 
 But lightning's flash, and wind and rain 
 
 Increased his rapid pace. 
 
 And when at last he heard a sound 
 
 As of a human voice. 
 
 His heart with pleasure seemed to bound 
 
 And caused him to rejoice. 
 
 But hark! some words now caught his ear. 
 
42 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Which made his heart beat wild with fear, 
 He heard the voice of Mary plead 
 For help, from one who did not heed, 
 And then some words from Vincen Hare 
 His quick ear caught, heard him declare, 
 "You need not fret, you need not cry. 
 You shall be mine or you shall die. ' ' 
 ''We'll see you outlawed, villain, sir!! 
 I dare you move, I dare you stir," 
 Said Captain Bly. Then quick as thought 
 Sprang forward, and his foe he caught. 
 ''You wretched fiend, in human form. 
 You thought in darkness 'mid the storm. 
 To seize this girl and claim her thine. 
 And none should know your desperate crime. 
 Too long you've dared to have your way. 
 Defied the law you should obey. 
 Alight, the ])risoner you shall be. 
 And Mary Flow shall now be free." 
 But Vincen Hare, and quickly too 
 With hand on belt, his pistol drew. 
 And then a click, a flash, a bang. 
 And clear and loud his pistol rang. 
 But in the darkness missed his aim. 
 And failing thus to get his game, 
 Again his pistol thundered loud. 
 And echoed in the stormy cloud, 
 While close o'erhead there whizzed a ball 
 Intended for the captain's fall. 
 But this had raised his righteous ire. 
 And quickly he returned the fire. 
 Intent his foe should then expire, 
 Upon the spot. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 43 
 
 And on that dark and stormy night 
 
 The captain saw as well he might, 
 
 By the dim flash of pistol light, 
 
 Just when he shot. 
 
 His foeman in his saddle reel, 
 
 Then saw the horse and rider wheel, 
 
 And off he quickly sped away. 
 
 And as the night had shut out day. 
 
 And horse and rider swiftly flew, 
 
 He soon was lost from human view. 
 
 Well done, w^ell done, the timely aid 
 
 Had rescued this fair charming maid. 
 
 Then and when she'd reached a safe retreat. 
 
 Her lover seemed to think it mete, 
 
 That he should press his claim once more, 
 
 As he had pressed that claim before. 
 
 But Mary to his plea replied, 
 
 That love for right should he her guide. 
 
 Though brightest hopes should fade away. 
 
 Still truth's mandates she must obey. 
 
 To his appeal, earnest and strong, 
 
 ' ' I know, ' ' said she, ' ' to yield is wrong. 
 
 And now I feel within my heart 
 
 'Tis best we should forever part." 
 
 Then as they said the sad goodby, 
 
 She bade him never more to try 
 
 Oh ! never more, her hand to gain 
 
 While bound with strong drink's cruel chain. 
 
 For this one thing she could not do, 
 
 To her conviction prove untrue. 
 
44 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TEMPTED AND TRIED 
 
 'Tis said there's naught that gives such pain 
 As thwarted love, that seeks in vain 
 The object of its fondest hope, 
 And yet in darkness still must grope. 
 Such 'pain was felt by Mary Flow, 
 Sometimes she cried, "0! could I know 
 Some way to gain my heart's desire. 
 That bliss my hunderings doth require, 
 I'd feast on joys multiplied. 
 Until my soul was satisfied." 
 And in those hours of grief and pain. 
 The .tempter said, "It's all in vain 
 That you should struggle and refuse 
 Your lover's offer, and may lose 
 Your only chance to gain your ow^n 
 And reign as queen on pleasure's throne. 
 So do not let this fair chance slip 
 Because your lover to his lip 
 Has placed the cup, and dared to drink 
 Of that which you perchance may think 
 Has brought down many of the brave. 
 And plunged them in a drunkard's grave." 
 And there was one deluded friend. 
 Said he, "Let me some counsil lend 
 He then proceeded with advice. 
 Said he, your heart is cold as ice, 
 Or else you'd marry Captain Bly, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 45 
 
 "Who loves you with a love so great, 
 
 For you he'd even dare to die. 
 
 Then why not be his household mate?" 
 
 ';Tis foolish pride that makes you think 
 
 It's wrong for him, for him to drink." 
 
 "0, tempt me not," the girl replied. 
 
 ''I cannot, will not, over-ride, 
 
 My heart's conviction, firm and true 
 
 Which tells me what I ought to do. 
 
 I know full well the tempter's power. 
 
 And how he oft seeks to devour 
 
 The souls of men, and fills with grief. 
 
 The bleeding hearts that seek relief. 
 
 And not an agent that he wields, 
 
 To him a richer harvest yields 
 
 Than drink, strong drink, his great ally. 
 
 That's made ten thousand orphans cry. 
 
 And often has this demon spread 
 
 His withering wings, and joy has fled 
 
 From hearts where once sweet peace was found, 
 
 And where the holiest love was crowned. 
 
 ! thou. Intemperance, so black, 
 
 What hideous crimes are in thy track. 
 
 Yet how deceptive is thy reign. 
 
 Thou dost entice and then enchain 
 
 Thy victims, and once in thy power. 
 
 They may within that evil hour, 
 
 While reason totters on the throne. 
 
 Commit the blackest crimes e'er known. 
 
 Oh, who can tell the want and woe 
 
 Caused by strong drink, man's deadly foe. 
 
 Said she, ''One incident I'll tell 
 
 To show how clouds of sorrow fell. 
 
46 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 In darkest tragedy and gloom, 
 
 And blasted hope in brightest bloom, 
 
 A young man once, whose hopes were bright, 
 
 Whose heart was filled with keen delight, 
 
 Had met a young girl, pure and fair, 
 
 And sought her confidence to share. 
 
 Perhaps he'd told her of his love, 
 
 And vowed 'twas pure as heaven above. 
 
 But when the old year almost gone 
 
 Gave way to New Year's brighter dawn, 
 
 A dance, a dance with mirth and song 
 
 Was given, whether right or wrong; 
 
 And many lads and lasses fair 
 
 Had been invited to be there. 
 
 This young man, too, by kind request, 
 
 And bonnie lass, were 'mong the guest. 
 
 And not a thought that one should grieve 
 
 Beclouded that glad New Year's eve. 
 
 So when the evening shadows fell. 
 
 And darkness spread o'er hill and dell, 
 
 The party gathered at the hall, 
 
 Wliere rang the music for the ball. 
 
 Terpsickore, the goddess reigned. 
 
 And from her throne the music gained 
 
 A charm as sweet as life. 
 
 And manhood, youth, and blooming maid, 
 
 Their hommage to this goddess paid. 
 
 But evil there Avas rife. 
 
 Yet hearts for pleasure tuned and strung 
 
 Were gay and glad, while music rung 
 
 And echoed through that merry crowd. 
 
 Who thought of sunshine, not of cloud. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 47 
 
 Indeed they seemed a merry band 
 
 That New Year 's night, while hand in hand 
 
 They danced and laughed away the night 
 
 In social pleasure and delight. 
 
 But then, alas, with some dismay, 
 
 This maiden saw her lover stray 
 
 From wisdom's ways, the ways of peace, 
 
 That leads where pleasures never cease. 
 
 For oh, he drank and fired his brain 
 
 Till reason swayed, left him insane. 
 
 Then dared to ask the girl if she 
 
 His partner in the dance would be. 
 
 But she refused, would not engage 
 
 With him to dance ; he than enraged 
 
 With mind beclouded so with drink. 
 
 Not one good thought of right could think, 
 
 And while his hellish passions played, 
 
 A pistol rang, and from the maid 
 
 Was heard a scream, and then she fell, 
 
 A victim of this child of hell, 
 
 And there lay prostrate on the floor, 
 
 Wiltering, dying in her gore. 
 
 ! think, yes, think what awful gloom. 
 How dark the cloud now hung, 
 Wliat horrors over that gay crowd 
 It's blackest curtains flung. 
 
 The merry laugh was changed to wail. 
 The music turned to sighs. 
 The fiendish wretch now saw his work 
 And cried, "She dies! She dies!" 
 
48 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 We close our eyes, the curtains fall, 
 The scene is hid from view, 
 And yet the harvest of it all 
 Is still to reap, 'tis true. 
 
 Another home is Avrapt in pain, 
 Its star of hope is pale 
 In death, and music's sweet refrain 
 Is turned to bitter wail. 
 
 Another wretch imdone, and doomed 
 Lies in a prison cell, 
 With deep remorse and hopes entombed. 
 His misery none can tell. 
 
 Then let us think of countless deeds 
 As black and chirk as this, 
 That rum and whiskey often breeds, 
 Which rob our homes of bliss. 
 
 Think of the crimes how great the sum 
 That's cliarged to drink's accoimt. 
 How deep the sorrow, oh, there's none 
 Can tell the vast amount. 
 
 Then tell me not there is no harm 
 In just one little sup ; 
 That one may be the tempter's charm. 
 Oh, shim the poison cup. 
 
 Forever shun the tempter's bowl, 
 Wbich doth such madness bring. 
 And doth from weeping heart and soul 
 The keenest sorrow wring. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 49 
 
 Go teach this truth from pole to pole, 
 
 And let this truth the world control, 
 
 That temperance ways are pleasantness. 
 
 And all her paths are nothing less 
 
 Than paths of peace, that lead the wise 
 
 To where their pleasure never dies." 
 
 Thus Mary, with a courage true, 
 
 Hurled back the darts the tempter threw. 
 
 Said she, ' ' In order that we may 
 
 Win for ourselves a brighter day. 
 
 Oh, let us shun this awful curse. 
 
 Which doth the star of hope immerse 
 
 In waves of sorrow, deep and dark, 
 
 Where not one single ray or spark t 
 
 Of light can reach the dark domain. 
 
 Where this dread demon holds his reign. 
 
 And with a strength strong as the tide, .^v^ 
 
 That sweeps the sea from side to side, 
 
 He sinks his victims low in shame, 
 
 Beneath the reach of mercy's claim. 
 
 Where gloom and darkness worse than death, 
 
 Shall reign without hope's vital breath." 
 
 Thus while she reasoned for the right 
 
 With all her soul, and strength and might, 
 
 The tempter saw, and proved her true 
 
 To her convictions — then withdrew. 
 
50 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE SONG OF FREEDOM 
 
 Two years had passed since war between 
 The North and South had ceased, 
 And all was calm where once was seen 
 The charging war-like beast. 
 
 Although the Southern cause was lost. 
 
 And none may ever count the cost. 
 
 Yet there was gained a vast amount 
 
 Of truth that's charged to war's account, 
 
 That ever wdll enrich the thought 
 
 Of nations, though 'twas dearly bought. 
 
 And there were principles maintained 
 
 O'er which the Southern banners reigned 
 
 That still will live, and never die ! 
 
 While freedom's flag floats 'neath the sky. 
 
 And for the Southern cause were those 
 
 Like mighty giants who arose, 
 
 And dared to risk their lives, their all. 
 
 That they might heed their country's call. 
 
 And we with pride, instead of shame. 
 
 May write on history's page the name 
 
 Of Davis, chieftain of that cause. 
 
 Who loved this Southland and her laws, 
 
 And Johnston, Lee, and those as true 
 
 As e'er a sword in battle drew. 
 
 And Stonewall Jackson, man of fame. 
 
 The nations now revere his name. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 51 
 
 Convinced his cause was just and good, 
 
 A stone wall for that cause he stood. 
 
 A braver, truer, nobler knight 
 
 Ne'er drew a sword in cause of right, 
 
 Nor is there one among the brave. 
 
 Who fills a nobler hero's grave. 
 
 And many other brave and true. 
 
 Through ev'ry adverse wind that blew, 
 
 Contended till their flag was furled. 
 
 With courage which amazed the world. 
 
 And to their memory we would sing. 
 
 As o'er their graves this tribute fling. 
 
 So, too, might General Grant lay claim 
 
 To honor 'mong the men of fame, 
 
 For he it was who dared to press 
 
 The battle till at last success 
 
 Had crowned his efforts, and there waved 
 
 His banners o'er a union saved. 
 
 And we would not one feather take 
 
 From his fair plume, nor would we make 
 
 A false impression as to those 
 
 Who dared the Southern cause oppose. 
 
 For 'mong them are the grand, the brave, 
 
 Who sleep in many an honored grave. 
 
 And yet when General Lee had furled 
 
 His flag before a gaying world. 
 
 When he at Appomatox found, 
 
 'Twas best at last his arms to ground, 
 
 And his brave men who never lacked 
 
 For courage strong, their arms had stacked, 
 
 Considering Grant's outnumbering host. 
 
 Small cause was left for any boast. 
 
 But of that cause for which the brave. 
 
52 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Have fought and bled and died, 
 
 Why further speak, for now 'tis time 
 
 To reconcile each side. 
 
 And let the wings of blessed peace 
 
 Be spread from shore to shore, 
 
 From North to South, till all shall learn 
 
 To love each other more. 
 
 Among the brave ones none was found 
 
 More ready to forgive 
 
 Than Major Flow, the old hero, 
 
 Who now desired to live 
 
 In peace, and in his Southern home 
 
 To spend the eve of life 
 
 In quietude, in rest, in ease. 
 
 There free from toil and strife. 
 
 Unless it .was to fight that foe, 
 
 That seeks with cruel hand 
 
 To blot and blast the happy home 
 
 In all this broad fair land. 
 
 That foe we call Intemperance, 
 
 That clouds the brightest day, 
 
 Wrecks fondest hopes, breaks mothers' hearts 
 
 And doth his thousands slay. 
 
 More dreaded than the pestilence, 
 
 Or all the wars combined. 
 
 Why should the law uphold that foe, 
 
 That foe to all mankind? 
 
 So many of the wise and good, 
 
 Think, why should law uphold 
 
 A thing that breeds the blackest crime, 
 
 And sorrows yet imtold. 
 
 A warfare thus began against 
 
 The traffic of strong drink. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 53 
 
 "Which curses life, and cause it, 
 
 In darkest gloom to sink. 
 
 Bathes brightest homes in tears and blood, 
 
 Robs manhood in its prime, 
 
 Should not the wise join hand in hand 
 
 To overthrow this crime? 
 
 'Twas in -this cause, this holy war, 
 
 The warfare for the right, 
 
 That Major Flow threw all his strength, 
 
 And seemed to take delight. 
 
 But while he strove for right and truth 
 
 His soul was blessed with peace. 
 
 He found that battling in that cause 
 
 But made his joys increase. 
 
 So while he fought against that sin 
 
 That curses human-kind, 
 
 He still enjoyed happiness 
 
 And sweetest peace of mind. 
 
 Sweet peace at home, where he had spent 
 
 His happy youthful days, 
 
 When hearts were light and hopes were bright 
 
 And sang their joyful lays. 
 
 'Twas in that dear old sacred place 
 
 His lovely child was born. 
 
 The one who led him from the night 
 
 Of sin to happy morn. 
 
 'Twas she who found him plunged in sm 
 
 By that strong demon, drink, 
 
 And rescued him ,and brought him back 
 
 From ruin's very brink. 
 
 And now that hope had plumed her wings. 
 
 The days glide smoothly on. 
 
 And life seemed full of melody 
 
54 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Like some delightful song. 
 
 For in that dear old happy home, 
 
 The daughter dwelt once more, 
 
 Where all was peace and all was love, 
 
 As in the days of yore. 
 
 Once more she sat beneath the sky 
 
 "Where balmy breezes blow, 
 
 Where genial sunshine spreads his rays 
 
 And Southern flowers grow. 
 
 'Twas there that happy days were spent, 
 
 And many peaceful hours, 
 
 'Mid hill and field, and nmning brook, 
 
 And richly blooming flowers. 
 
 And 'twas there 
 
 Upon a lovely summer eve, 
 
 While gently blew the evening breeze. 
 
 And all was calm and peace, 
 
 'Twas such a time when nature seems 
 
 To tune our souls for lovely dreams. 
 
 And make our sorrows cease, 
 
 That Mary Flow, on rustic chair 
 
 Within the sweet refreshing air. 
 
 Was seated 'neath a tree. 
 
 An old oak tree, where oft was heard 
 
 The singing of the mocking bird, 
 
 As sweet as song could be. 
 
 That grand old tree within the yard 
 
 Had felt the storm king's angry charge. 
 
 When sweeping winds dashed through. 
 
 But now its leaf was gently fanned 
 
 As if 'twas touched by loving hand. 
 
 So soft the zephyrs blew. 
 
 'Twas there beneath its cooling shade, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 55 
 
 Sat Mary Flow, the winsome maid, 
 
 In all her loveliness. 
 
 And by her side sat Captain Bly, 
 
 As charmed as in the days gone by, 
 
 And ready to confess; 
 
 Confess his wrong, and all his sin. 
 
 Tell of the bondage he'd been in, 
 
 Still hoping to regain 
 
 Her hand, for since the time that Bly 
 
 Last said to Mary Flow goodbye, 
 
 He'd broken error's chain. 
 
 The temperance pledge he now had signed. 
 
 To truth and right his will resigned, 
 
 His greatest error he had seen, 
 
 And for that error suffered keen, 
 
 He found by strong drink's cursed power 
 
 That he was sinking hour by hour. 
 And when for liberty he sought. 
 
 And with the old drink demon fought, 
 
 With all his might, he only found 
 
 Himself by sin's strong power bound. 
 
 'Twas while despair beyond control 
 
 Was settling down upon his soul. 
 
 That he by some kind providence 
 
 Was led to see his great offense. 
 
 'Twas Sabbath morning ,and the sun 
 
 His daily circuit had begun, 
 
 The flowers with dew-drops on the bloom. 
 
 Sent forth on air a rich perfume ; 
 
 While songs of birds and bright sunshine, 
 
 Would wake one's thoughts to things divine. 
 
 And when the church bells through the air, 
 
 Sent forth a call to morning prayer. 
 
66 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Bly joined himself among the throng, 
 
 That listened to the holy song, 
 
 And to the message that was sent, 
 
 To call lost sinners to repent. 
 
 He heard the old, old story told 
 
 Of Jesus and His love, 
 
 How sinners' names might be enrolled 
 
 In Heaven's book above. 
 
 Thus while the blessed truth he heard, 
 
 As taught in God's own holy word. 
 
 Convincing truth like some keen dart 
 
 Sent deep conviction to his heart. 
 
 That truth the Holy Spirit sealed. 
 
 And there before his God he kneeled. 
 
 And like a penitent he plead 
 
 To be uplifted from the dead. 
 
 And as he sought for truth and light 
 
 To guide his wayward footsteps right. 
 
 He saw strong drink, that leads to woe, 
 
 Was his most cruel stubborn foe. 
 
 He then in agony and grief. 
 
 Called on the Lord to give relief. 
 
 And He who hears the sinner's cry, 
 
 When tears of penance dim the eye. 
 
 Heard from His righteous throne in heaven, 
 
 And said, ' ' Thy sins are all forgiven. ' ' 
 
 'Twas thus he found the saving power 
 
 Of gospel truth, in that glad hour, 
 
 For when he, with the heart believed, 
 
 A full salvation he received. 
 
 Then Jesus bade his sorrows cease, 
 
 And filled his soul with love and peace ; 
 
 And from that blessed happy day. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 57 
 
 When saved from sin's destructive sway, 
 
 From drink he found himself set free, 
 
 And sang the song of liberty. 
 
 With truth and virtue on the throne, 
 
 And temperance ways now made his own, 
 
 Strong drink by him had been forsaken, 
 
 The temperance pledge been gladly taken; 
 
 And while that pledge may count for naught, 
 
 Unless the grace of God has wrought 
 
 Within the heart a strength, a power, 
 
 To stand against the evil hour, 
 
 That strength and grace that came from heaven 
 
 To Captain Bly was surely given, 
 
 And since he'd crossed the danger line, 
 
 His heart had waked to joys divine. 
 
 And now said he, '* since I am free 
 
 I sing the songs of liberty." 
 
 And when to Mary he'd confessed, 
 
 And told her how his heart was blessed. 
 
 The story stirred within her soul, 
 
 A joy almost beyond control. 
 
 But when he brought it to a close. 
 
 And from the rustic seat arose, 
 
 Said he, "May I this eve with you 
 
 Have one more precious interview?" 
 
 His earnest words her soul impressed, 
 
 She spake, and granted his request, 
 
 Then as the sun was sinking low 
 
 And sending forth a radiant glow, 
 
 While shadows cross the vale were thrown, 
 
 The Captain left her there alone; 
 
 Then while she thought of all he'd said, 
 
 And of the new life which he led, 
 
58 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 And of his victorj^ so complete, 
 
 Her heart in sweetest rapture beat. 
 
 For she possessed that trait of mind 
 
 That fills with joys of sweetest kind, 
 
 That seeks to know the brightest ray, 
 
 That fancy paints in golden day. 
 
 Her nature was so finely strung, 
 
 So sensitive, her thoughts oft swung 
 
 Far out in scenes of grief and pain. 
 
 Then back again where pleasures reign. 
 
 Her nature was of that fine make. 
 
 That sometimes causes hearts to break. 
 
 In gloom 'twould sink in darkest nights. 
 
 In pleasures reach the highest heights, 
 
 In sorrow find the deepest depths. 
 
 In joy could climb the topmost steps, 
 
 Her fancy paint the saddest woe. 
 
 Then mount again the bright rainbow. 
 
 And on the wings of hope could soar. 
 
 As though she'd never sorrow more. 
 
 And at that moment while she mused. 
 
 The sweetest joy her soul infused, 
 
 Till by the passions of her love. 
 
 Her thoughts were carried far above 
 
 The common things of earth below, 
 
 Until she hardly seemed to know. 
 
 So thrilled and charmed with pure delight, 
 
 How far she'd flown in fancy's flight. 
 
 She builded castles in the air. 
 
 And dreamed of bliss she hoped to share. 
 
 Until her soul was all in time, 
 
 And like an instrument, as soon 
 
 As skillful fingers touch the keys, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 59 
 
 And move with gracefulness and ease, 
 Upon the notes, the music clear, 
 Rings out to charm the listener's ear. 
 And so love 's music full and rife, 
 Now thrilled and filled her very life. 
 
 ^^ 
 
60 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SUNSHINE AT LAST 
 
 Sometimes the darkest hours of night, 
 Are just before the dawning, 
 Then cheer, my heart, hope sees the light, 
 The rising star of morning. 
 
 The moments fly and fly so fast. 
 
 That since the lovers parted last. 
 
 The sun had set behind the hill, 
 
 The songs of birds were hushed and still. 
 
 The day had fled, but at its close, 
 
 The queen of night in beauty rose. 
 
 And clothed in silvery beams of light, 
 
 She ruled serenely o'er the night. 
 
 The stars had had their work assigned. 
 
 And each in beauty brightly shined, 
 
 And from their far off home on high, 
 
 As watchful sentinels in the sky, 
 
 They look upon the earth asleep 
 
 Where mortals sing and laugh and weep. 
 
 And on that fair and lovely night, 
 
 Wliile Cupid danced with wild delight, 
 
 And arrows from his magic throne, 
 
 Flew thick, to make his powers known, 
 
 Two persons talked in accents low. 
 
 'Twas Captain Bly and Mary Flow. 
 
 They'd just been out to take a walk, 
 
 And now together sit and talk. 
 
 They spoke of nature's beauties bright, 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 61 
 
 And of the moon's soft mellow light, 
 
 Then silence reigned and naught was said. 
 
 At length the Captain raised his head 
 
 And in a firm but trembling tone, 
 
 Said he, "I 've tried my faults to own, 
 
 I've told you how I strove to win 
 
 My freedom from the power of sin. 
 
 How grace divine my bondage broke, 
 
 And threw from me the galling yoke. 
 
 And since from wine-cups I am free. 
 
 What separates twixt you and me? 
 
 ! tell me, may it not be done. 
 
 May not our lives unite as one ? ' ' 
 
 Her quick ear caught each trembling word, 
 
 Her blushes told that she had heard. 
 
 Yet answering not, she bowed her head, 
 
 While thinking over what he said. 
 
 And for a moment seemed to be 
 
 In sweetest kind of reverie. 
 
 Then with her sparkling eyes half closed, 
 
 Their long dark lashes fell and rose. 
 
 While tear-drops like the glittering dew 
 
 Within those bright eyes dimmed their view. 
 
 Her cheeks were flushed, her face adorned 
 
 With lovely smiles as fresh as morn, 
 
 And from her visage seemed to shine 
 
 A loveliness almost divine. 
 
 For joy had caused those tears to flow, 
 
 Such joy as few poor mortals know. 
 
 A moment more the silence broke, 
 
 And once again her lover spoke, 
 
 ' ' Shall it not be that I shall hear, 
 
 From her I hold so very dear. 
 
62 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 An answer that completes my joy? 
 Or will your words my hopes destroy? 
 O ! will you, can you ! ' ' but he heard 
 From her sweet lips not yet one word. 
 Once more he plead, "Will you refuse, 
 Shall I life's greatest treasure lose? 
 ! will you not crown my address 
 And thus complete my happiness?'' 
 Then to love s passion he gave reign, 
 Till he no longer could refrain. 
 And so her trembling hand he took. 
 And he gazed on her with that fond look, 
 That telLs far more of love's pure flame 
 Than pen or tongue can ever name. 
 And in that strong impassioned tone. 
 Once more asked her to be his own. 
 She blushed and looked up in his face, 
 To her the noblest of the race, 
 And then to make his joys complete, 
 "With voice that charmed like music sweet, 
 To him it seemed almost divine, 
 She answered sweetly, ''Yes, I'm thine." 
 'Twas tlius a vow was made at last. 
 That boimd two hearts together fast. 
 For weal or woe, in sun or shade, 
 Wlien hopes are bright or when they fade. 
 And e'er the summer months were gone, 
 These two were wed, and sailing on 
 The stream we call the stream of time. 
 As smoothly as a flowing rhyme. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 63 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE CONSUMMATION 
 
 A pleasure great as mortals know 
 
 Upon this mundane shores below 
 
 By this fair bride was now possessed, 
 
 Since God her earnest efforts blessed, 
 
 Made her the instrument to win 
 
 Her father back from ways of sin, 
 
 And he who was her husband now. 
 
 Was led also to make that vow, 
 
 That bound him to the cause of right, 
 
 And leads in paths of pure delight. 
 
 So with the wise, the great, and good. 
 
 Who love the ways of right, they stood. 
 
 And for the temperance cause they wrought. 
 
 By every lawful means they sought, 
 
 To banish from our land that foe 
 
 That shrowds our homes in deepest woe. 
 
 That dreadful curse that claims the right 
 
 To lead its thousands down to night. 
 
 It wrecks the fondest hopes that spring 
 In hearts, or tunes the lips to sing 
 A song of pure delight. 
 It turns that glad sweet song to sigh. 
 And makes the fondest pleasures die, 
 And sink in sorrow's night. 
 
 It smites the heart a cruel blow 
 Of anguish deep as mortals know, 
 
64 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 This side of hell's dark flame. 
 It makes the vilest passions burn, 
 And men from wisdom's ways to turn, 
 And scorn redemption's claim. 
 
 For fathers curse their own offspring, 
 When alcohol becomes their king, 
 And naught that's good can grow. 
 For all their wicked passions rise, 
 And all that's good within them dies, 
 They sink so vile, so low. 
 
 And never shall our land be free, 
 Nor need we sing of liberty, 
 Or hope for freedom's reign, 
 Until this curse that blights our land 
 No longer, with a demon hand. 
 Shall bind with error's chain. 
 
 Oh ! speed the time when truth and right 
 
 Shall put this ugly foe to flight. 
 
 And drive all sin away. 
 
 When man shall paradise regain, 
 
 And Christ in bliss returns to reign. 
 
 ! come, thou glorious day. 
 
 (The end.) 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 65 
 
 WRITING VERSES 
 
 When I was younger some than now, 
 I thought that I might rise 
 Into some note by use of pen, 
 Though claimed not to be wise. 
 
 I thought that I would verses make, 
 And to the paper send, 
 Then hoped that I in print might see 
 The verses I had penned. 
 
 But Oh! the poet's fire was quenched 
 And all his hopes decayed, 
 When his first piece was critcised 
 And in the basket laid. 
 
 There it may rest, forever rest, 
 And never see the light, 
 And so the author's hopes went down, 
 His hopes had suffered blight. 
 
 But rallied by the adage true, 
 ''I'll try, yes, try again," 
 Another piece I did compose 
 And to the paper send. 
 
 But like the first it found its way, 
 Not into shining light. 
 But in the dread waste basket sunk 
 In everlasting night. 
 
66 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 So then thought I, I'd better quit, 
 I '11 never be a poet ; 
 For sure you cannot turn a sheep, 
 A sheep into a go-ate. 
 
 So then thought I, I'll take the stage, 
 A lecture I will make. 
 But why, I'm sure I can't tell why, 
 That lecture did not take. 
 
 For there were some who did arise 
 And from the house withdrew. 
 While looks of others seemed to say, 
 *'I wish I had gone, too." 
 
 So now, dear friends, I write this piece, 
 And then lay down my pen. 
 Get off the stage and then retire 
 To some secluded den. 
 
 For I have learned this lesson well, 
 This lesson I have learned. 
 That I cannot by pen or stage, 
 Much reputation earn. 
 
 For though I always thought I had 
 A little common sense, 
 It's hard to make the public see 
 Aught but one's own nonsense. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 67 
 
 GROWING OLD 
 
 The dreams of youth are passing with 
 The fast increasing years, 
 Sometimes we think of long ago, 
 And scarce refrain from tears. 
 
 The numbering years now passed and gone 
 Check hope that once was bold. 
 Because these years locked in the past 
 Tell me I'm growing old. 
 
 As fades the day, when evening shades 
 Sink down upon the vale, 
 So fades the light from life away. 
 And earthly hopes grow pale. 
 
 The once bold step more feeble grows, 
 The halting gait reveals 
 The strength of youth is passing by, 
 And age upon us steals. 
 
 Oh, time, old time, how fast you fly. 
 And bear us on your wing. 
 The eye grows dim, hair streaks with gray, 
 As out and on we swing. 
 
 And yet we would not fold the wings 
 Of time's most rapid flight. 
 Could we but know they bore us on 
 To endless' pure delight 
 
68 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 Oil, could we know that when this life, 
 This earthly life was o'er, 
 "We still would live and meet with those, 
 The dear ones gone before. 
 
 Why then we'd say, ''Roll, wheels of time, 
 Roll in your rapid flight. 
 You only bear us to that clime, 
 Where comes no shade of night." 
 
 And where with those we have not seen 
 For weeks, and months, and years. 
 We'll meet again, at life's pure stream, 
 Where there'll be no sad tears. 
 
 But doubts will come and fears arise, 
 That cloud the future sky, 
 And make us wish to linger here, 
 Afraid, afraid to die. 
 
 One thing we know when we have quit. 
 Have quit this mundane shore. 
 We've severed every earthly tie, 
 And every earthly store. 
 
 And so we cry for love and hope. 
 
 And faith 's bright star to cheer, 
 
 Wbich makes the pathway seem more bright, 
 
 And drives away our fear. 
 
 ! come, my Lord, and make me know 
 There is a life above, 
 Unmeasured by the flight of years, 
 Where all is peace and love. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 69 
 
 With such a hand as thine to lead, 
 Why need we doubt or fear ? 
 The Lord is good, and we are His, 
 The objects of His care. 
 
 Then come sweet hope and faith and love. 
 The richest blessings given. 
 And bear us up and onward till 
 We reach our home in heaven. 
 
70 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 LET ME LOVE THEE MORE 
 
 My Lord, I want to love Thee more, 
 Oh, let my will, my soul. 
 And ev'ry impulse of my heart, 
 Be under love's control. 
 
 That perfect love that casts out fear. 
 And lifts the soul above 
 All gloomy doubts, and bids one share 
 The bliss of heaven's love. 
 
 PARDONING GRACE 
 
 Lord Jesus, I would come to Thee, 
 With all my guilt and fear. 
 And plead Thy mercy, full and free. 
 On Thee cast all my care. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 For Thy great mercy hath no bound, 
 So let Thy pardoning grace be found. 
 
 I know Thou art the sinner's friend. 
 As such I look to Thee. 
 Oh, let Thy blessings now descend. 
 My captive soul set free. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 71 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 Dear Lord, oh, help me now to bring 
 My life, my all to Thee, 
 And of Thy mercy I will sing, 
 When Thou hast pardoned me. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 And now I do my sins confess. 
 This is my only plea. 
 And hallelujah, I am blessed, 
 For Thou has pardoned me. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
 And now I would forever sing. 
 While in my Lord's embrace, 
 Hosanna to my God and King, 
 For His redeeming grace. 
 
 CHORUS 
 
72 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 MEMORY 
 
 Some happy days now passed and gone, 
 Are like the music of a song, 
 That once had caused the heart to thrill, 
 The echo lingers with us still. 
 
 So memory brings back day again, 
 And bids us live them o'er, as when 
 The morning star of youth was bright. 
 And shone in all its pure delight. 
 
 REDEMPTION'S COST 
 
 Go number all the forest trees. 
 And every leaf that fans the breeze. 
 When summer's breezes blow. 
 Or count your golden dollars more 
 Than sands upon the ocean's shore. 
 Where biny billows flow. 
 And yet redemption from the fall. 
 Exceeds in value more than all 
 The treasurers earth can show. 
 For man in sin was sold and lost, 
 And to redeem him, oh, the cost 
 Is more than angels know. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 73 
 
 FLYING FISH 
 
 Tom Moore, the poet, sings of a flying fish. 
 The last verse is a prayer to virtue in which he 
 says: 
 
 *'0h, virtue, when thy climes I seek, 
 Let my spirit's flight be weak, 
 Let me not, like this feeble thing 
 With brine still dripping from its wing, 
 Just sparkle in the solar glow, 
 And plunge again to depths below; 
 But when I leave the grosser throng 
 With whom my soul hath dwelt so long, 
 Let me in that aspiring day 
 Cast ev'ry lingering stain away 
 And, panting for the purer air, 
 Fly up at once, and fix me there." 
 
 Here are a few lines I have added to the last 
 verse : 
 
 Oh, Jesus, Thou canst set me free, 
 And so I look for strength from Thee, 
 That will enable me to soar 
 In realms where sin molests no more ; 
 Where I may rise forever higher, 
 Mount up on wings that never tire, 
 Oh, help me break the power of sin. 
 And thus enable me to win 
 That bliss the saints celestial know, 
 Where fruits on trees immortal grow, 
 And for the grace which Thou hast given, 
 I'll ever sing Thy praise in heaven. 
 
74 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 THE OLD BURNT CLOCK 
 
 In the year 1900, I think it was, the parsonage 
 at Olin, N. C, in which we lived burned down. 
 In it were two clocks, one of them had belonged 
 to my father. After the fire, some one said that 
 as they were trying to get things out of the 
 building, it was sad to hear the old clock ticking 
 away to the very last. That thought inspired 
 the following poem : 
 
 I knew a little cottage home. 
 
 Without the splendor of a dome, 
 
 And yet it sheltered from the blast 
 
 Of winter winds, and storms that cast 
 
 Their shodaws round in darkest gloom. 
 
 When storm clouds float and thunder boom. 
 
 But then, alas, one morning found 
 
 That home with flames enwrapped around, 
 
 And upward rose the red blaze higher, 
 
 While loudly rang the cry of fire ; 
 
 Yet vain was effort ; onward came 
 
 The roaring, rushing, burning flame. 
 
 But 'mid the tumult and the shock. 
 
 Upon a mantle stood a clock. 
 
 And undisturbed, it kept the time, 
 
 And like the rhythm of a rhime, 
 
 Still measured on, with tick and tock, 
 
 Still measured time, that faithful clock. 
 
 But onward came the rushing flame. 
 
 Yet undisturbed, 'twas all the same, 
 
 For like some hero, grand, sublime. 
 
 That faithful clock still measured time. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 75 
 
 Until at last, 'mid melting heat, 
 
 It struck its last sad measured beat; 
 
 And then amid the rush and roar, 
 
 That old clock fell to rise no more ; 
 
 For every wheel and spring and wire, 
 
 Was twisted, melted in the fire. 
 
 But just inside another room. 
 
 Another clock there met its doom. 
 
 But of it we would scarcely sing, 
 
 Did not our memory round it fling 
 
 A sacredness, for it was old? 
 
 In other days the time it told. 
 
 To those who looked upon its face, 
 
 But ended since their earthly race. 
 
 My infant ears had heard that clock, 
 
 Had heard its measured tick and tock, 
 
 And then again in youthful days, 
 
 It was familiar to my gaze. 
 
 I oft had heard its mellow tone 
 
 Count off the hours which had flown. 
 
 But now the flames around it broke, 
 
 And there amid the fire and smoke, 
 
 And melting heat, which none could check, 
 
 That old clock fell, a ruined wreck, 
 
 And of its wheels and springs and plates, 
 
 There's nothing left but two old weights. 
 
76 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 OUR BOYS AND THE FLAG OF OUR 
 
 COUNTRY 
 
 (Written during the World War, 1918) 
 
 Our boys are training in the camps, 
 To fight for freedom's cause. 
 For what we know is good and right, 
 For just and righteous laws. 
 
 And some have gone across the seas, 
 To battle 'gainst the Huns, 
 And shall not we stand by those boys. 
 Our brothers and our sons? 
 
 Our flag unfurled and in the breeze 
 Is waving o'er the brave. 
 While prayers, like sweetest incense rise, 
 That God may bless and save. 
 
 May save our men, and give success. 
 And let the cause of right 
 In triumph win, that peace may reign. 
 Instead of war-cloud's night. 
 
 Yet we wish not that German rights. 
 Be crushed or overthrown, 
 But only that the war dogs learn, 
 The weak must have their own. 
 
 Then let our flag, the Stars and Stripes, 
 The old Red, Wliite, and Blue, 
 In triumph wave, wave o'er that cause. 
 That's right, and good, and true. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 77 
 
 PIGEON RIVER 
 
 I was born on Pigeon river, 
 And I love that river still, 
 The memory of its rushing water, 
 To my heart oft sent a thrill. 
 
 On its banks I've played in childhood, 
 When my heart was free from care, 
 There I've laughed and sang when merry, 
 And sometimes have shed a tear. 
 
 Up and down its banks I've wandered, 
 Watched the fish which were so shy, 
 Sat beneath the shade and wondered 
 While its waters glided by. 
 
 There upon its banks have happened 
 Scenes I'll think of o'er and o'er, 
 When I see that dear old river. 
 Or hear its waters roar. 
 
 Childhood scenes shall live forever, 
 Linger like a pleasant dream. 
 In my thought, while I remember 
 Days I spent beside that stream. 
 
 Yes, it often brings to memory. 
 Thoughts of days long since passed by, 
 And those days so bright and cheery, 
 In my memory shall not die. 
 
 But those days are passed forever, 
 They have fled and gone, yes, gone, 
 Still I love that dear old river. 
 Where I've played while it flowed on. 
 
78 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD 
 
 Once more I've seen the old homestead, 
 Where youthful days were spent, 
 Where in the early morn of life, 
 I dwelt in peace, content. 
 
 I thought of happy days of youth, 
 When I did fondly share 
 The love of parents, and I was 
 The object of their care. 
 
 I stood upon the river bank, 
 Where once in youthful days, 
 The happy moments sped away. 
 In childish sports and plays. 
 
 I viewed again that old home place, 
 And stood beside the spring, 
 I thought of home and loved ones gone, 
 And songs they used to sing. 
 
 And as I looked upon the hills. 
 Where once I used to roam, 
 I thought of many pleasant scenes 
 That cluster 'roimd that home. 
 
 For memory while I lingered there, 
 Her backward glances threw, 
 And brought again the happy morn. 
 Of youthful davs to view. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 79 
 
 THOMAS MOORE, THE POET 
 
 Well, Robert Browning, seems to me he planned 
 His notes so high, I cannot understand. 
 But 'mong the poets who have wrote and sung, 
 Whose splendid harps were always tuned and 
 
 strung, 
 My favorite one is Thomas Moore, whose rhymes 
 Rang clear and smooth, and sweet as silver 
 
 chimes ; 
 For when he once had tuned his harp to sing, 
 And when he touched and tightened every 
 
 string, 
 Then swept the chords, it quivered with a thrill 
 That waked a passion of the soul that still 
 May charm and linger there, and live, yes live, 
 As long as memory has a thought to give. 
 
 THE OLD SCHOOL HOUSE 
 
 This morning I remember well 
 
 An old school house, without a bell, 
 
 That rustic house stood on a hill, 
 
 Wliere memory seems to see it still. 
 
 'Twas built of logs as you may know 
 
 Was custom in the long ago. 
 
 A structure rude, and yet to me 
 
 A school house dear 'twill ever be. 
 
 'Twas there when first to school I went, 
 
 Some happy youthful days were spent. 
 
80 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 But years have passed since then and now, 
 The stamp of manhood's on my brow. 
 And yet in thought I oft return, 
 To that dear spot where first I learned. 
 My simple lessons, day by day, 
 When hearts were light and hopes were gay. 
 And sometimes in my dreams I see 
 Some faces which were dear to me. 
 I think of one, my teacher fair. 
 With bright black eyes and raven hair, 
 She then was but a youthful girl. 
 As fair as any in the world. 
 Her merry laugh rang out so clear. 
 Like music 'twould a sad heart cheer. 
 And while that laugh seems merry yet. 
 As when her flowing locks were jet, 
 jA Yet still old time has stamped her brow, 
 
 If And made some change since then and now. 
 
 * ^ Her step is not so brisk, so gay. 
 
 Her raven locks are mixed with gray. 
 Her youthful bloom is not adorned 
 As fresh as in youth's early morn. 
 Yet there are charms that still remain, 
 Those lasting charms the good retain. 
 So while the years are passing on, 
 Her life is still a cheerful song, 
 And on this earth she lingers still 
 Her work, her mission, to fulfill. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 81 
 
 VERSES IN AN ALBUM 
 
 The following verses were written for a young 
 lady whom I thought very beautiful, to be put in 
 her album: 
 
 When you were named, you should have been 
 
 Called Vashti this I see, 
 
 Because your looks I know demand 
 
 That Vashti, it should be. 
 
 Now you may know, when you have learned 
 
 The meaning of this name. 
 
 The reason why I think you are 
 
 Entitled to the same. 
 
 So may your pathway all through life, '^ 
 
 Be filled with heavenly grace, ^ ^ 
 
 And may your life be pure and good, m 
 
 And beautiful like your face. ^ 
 
 <l 
 
 TO A BACHELOR 
 
 Ye bachelors who sail along 
 The stream of life so lonely, 
 There are some girls along the way, 
 You know, that are quite comely. 
 
 And so to you who sail this stream, 
 Alone and single handed, 
 I wish to say this much to you, 
 If you'll not be offended. 
 
82 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 There are some girls along that way, 
 And if you think 'tis better, 
 They'll help you catch some friendly breeze 
 And sail life's stream together. 
 
 A VALENTINE 
 
 Miss Hattie, I with much delight, 
 Will a line unto you write, 
 And I will be quite plain and brief, 
 And hope my heart may find relief, 
 For Hattie, dear, I find 'tis true, 
 I am in love, in love with you. 
 My love is such it doth demand. 
 You give to me your heart and hand. 
 So will you not crown my address, 
 And thus complete my happiness? 
 
 George W. Gingerbread. 
 
 You may call me for the present, as sweet a name 
 
 as I could think of. 
 But then not half, oh, not near, 
 Not half so sweet as you, my dear. 
 
 SMOKING CAT 
 
 Seeing the picture of a cat once, riding a 
 wheel, and wearing a cap, with a cigar in his 
 mouth, as an advertisement' of the Old Virginia 
 Cheroot, I wrote the following: 
 
AND , OTHER POEMS 83 
 
 This cat can smoke and ride a wheel. 
 
 And wear a cap, and look genteel, 
 And that is more than some folks do, 
 Who think they're better far than you. 
 
 For they may wear the finest clothes, 
 And hold a cigar close to their nose, 
 And maybe, too, can ride a wheel, 
 But never seem to be genteel. 
 
 The reason's clear, this old cheroot, 
 From Virginia, gave the hoot 
 That lifted cat, and made him feel 
 Big as a lord that rides a wheel. 
 
 TO MY SWEETHEART IN YOUTH 
 
 My sweetheart, she's a fancy girl, 
 And pretty as you please. 
 But she has acted very strange. 
 And thinks that me she'll tease. 
 
 But I'll give her to understand 
 That I don't care a cent, 
 If she don't want me for a beau, 
 I'm sure I'll not lament. 
 
 And now in after years — 
 
 Those lines I wrote in days of youth 
 
 To one I loved so dearly, 
 
 And told her I cared not to be 
 
 Her beau, were false, or nearly. 
 
84 THE SOUTHERN GIRL 
 
 For in her youthful days she was 
 Attractive, and so bonny, 
 With one sweet smile she could almost 
 Have captured anybody. 
 
 That smile the coldest heart would stir, 
 And make one feel 'twas duty, 
 To love a bomiy lass like her, 
 Endowed with so much beauty. 
 
 I loved her in those youthful days, 
 When hope was bright and shining. 
 And now I find there is no cause 
 For love to be declining. 
 
 For many days we've journeyed on 
 The road of life together, 
 And yet she is my sweetheart stiU, 
 And loved as well as ever. 
 
 True love no wave can overflow, 
 Nor storms of sorrow sever. 
 Nor can there any winds that blow, 
 Chill such a love, no never. 
 
 So while we've journeyed on through life, 
 Some days seemed dark and dreary, 
 But many pleasant ones we found. 
 When hearts were light and merry. 
 
AND OTHER POEMS 85 
 
 And hope and love still points the way, 
 To where there comes no sorrow, 
 And where no storm clouds ever rise, 
 To dim that glad tomorrow. 
 
 THE ANGELS' SONG 
 
 I think when happy angels sing 
 And sweet their harps of gold, 
 The music's richness has a ring 
 That's never yet been told. 
 
 For in that land of purest joys. 
 Their highest notes they raise. 
 And sing in tones that love employs, 
 The SAveetest songs of praise. 
 
 'Tis sweeter far than mortals know, 
 Or ever charmed the ear 
 Of those who dwell on earth below. 
 Where flows the bitter tear. 
 
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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