(Iass_Z2iS!£l 
 
LEGENDS AND LYRICS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GULF COAST 
 
 BY LAURA. F.^HINSDALE, Litt. D. 
 
 DAILY HERALD 
 BILOXI, MISSISSIPPI 
 

 COPYRIGHTED 1896 
 
 BY LAURA F. HINSDALE 
 
 Second Edition 
 
 By transfer 
 Th© W.' ti House 
 
INDEX 
 
 Astrand 39 
 
 Biloxi 9 
 
 Cherokee Rose, A Legend of the 16 
 
 Coast Light, A 23 
 
 Coming of the Dryad 47 
 
 Dauphine Isles, The 19 
 
 Dream of Eona, The 31 
 
 Filles a la Cassette 38 
 
 Four Leaf Clover, A 30 
 
 Gulf Forts, A Legend of the 41 
 
 Gulfport 2.' 
 
 Live Oak Ring, The 13 
 
 Lichen, A Cluster of 22 
 
 Marjorie and Joe 43 
 
 Memorial Church, Biloxi, The 41 
 
 Mirage of the Gulf, A 45 
 
 Mocking Bird, The True Song of the 34 
 
 Music of the Pines, The 23 
 
 Mysterious Music of the Gulf Coast, The 10 
 
 Night Jasmine, The 21 
 
 Night On the Gulf Coast 20 
 
 Old Indian Trail, The 4 i 
 
 Sauvolle and Biloxi 26 
 
 Sailing On the Gulf 37 
 
 Ship Island Light 35 
 
 Sieur Alexandre's Tapers 48 
 
 Southern Night, A 24 
 
 Spanish Gulf Song, A 36 
 
 Spanish Moss 28 
 
 St. John's Eve, A Charm of 43 
 
 Terias Lisa 18 
 
 Thou and I 12 
 
 Wood Thrush, The 15 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The Gulf Coast, especially that portion between New 
 Orleans and Mobile, has been commemorated in this volume. 
 Here the student of Colonial History finds a region rich in 
 legendary lore. 
 
 Biloxi, the old city named for an Indian tribe long van- 
 ished, greeted Iberville and his three ships, the "Badine,'' 
 the "Marin" and the "Francois" in the year 1699. 
 
 Ancient publications in French and Spanish have been 
 consulted in the history of Biloxi's romantic past. Here 
 Fathers Davion and Montigny visited Commander Sauvolle 
 in the first fort when Biloxi was the seat of government for 
 the vast region namled Louisiana, which since that day has 
 been divided into many sovereign states. 
 
 Here were Iberville's inscriptions on the trees telling of 
 his coming. The trees bore the carven figures of three 
 ships and a pipe of peace. 
 
 Here a chapel was built and here were the first 
 bright romances and Christian marriages when there 
 came to these shores a ship-load of beautiful women 
 to ])ecome the helpful companions of men in the 
 new world of their adoption. Here the aborigines of the 
 stone age have left traces of a life of wonderful interest. 
 The picturesque Indian has wielded his tomahawk and sung 
 his death song. The pirate wrecker has built his red fires 
 to lure unsuspecting seamen to destruction. France, Spain 
 and England have each in turn wakened the pine forest to 
 the sound of their guns, armies have beseiged these shores, 
 but the Gulf Coast today looks smiling from her Iliad of 
 woes. 
 
 Here the sea leads to adjacent lovely islands; conspic- 
 uous among them is Ship Island, twelve miles away, where 
 old Fort Massachusetts enlists the interest of the historic 
 
student. Along the shore of the Gulf Coast are fair cities 
 whose legends and land marks are fast disappearing in the 
 activities of a new time. 
 
 Among them is beautiful Ocean Springs, connected 
 with Biioxi by its long bridge and its early traditions. Pass 
 Christian, Pascagoula and Bay St. Louis are typical cities of 
 the coast, offering sheaves from the harvest fields of the 
 past. Gulfport has the human interest of a great ocean 
 harbor. Beauvoir, four miles distant from Biioxi, the 
 former home of Jefferson Davis, is now the Confederate 
 Soldiers' Home. Charles Gayarre, the eminent historian 
 of Louisiana and Jefferson Davis were among the number 
 to relate to this writer some of these old legends which 
 are herein retold in verse. 
 
 Several of the contributions of this collection first 
 appeared in the Times-Democrat and in leading Eastern 
 Magazines. L. F. H. 
 
 Biioxi, 1913. 
 
BILOXI 
 
 The blue gulf billows love thee, the blue skies bend above thee, 
 A hundred sails, like pinions, are winging to thy shore. 
 
 The giant live oaks over, have woven thee a cover. 
 
 And the music of thy pine woods sighs on forevermore. 
 
 In thy jasmine bordered gardens what spell of memory lies, 
 
 When the mocking birds are singing of love and Paradise I 
 
 The starry night discloses thy bowers, sweet with roses, 
 I hear the boatman singing a legend of the sea, 
 
 As a mirage of the highlands, I see thy distant islands, 
 And the white sail lingers and seems to beckon me. 
 
 In thy jasmine bordered gardens what spell of memory lies. 
 
 When the mocking birds are singing of love and Paradise ! 
 
MYSTERIOUS MUSIC OF THE GULF COAST 
 
 (The following poem which first appeared in "The 
 American Magazine'' has been Widely copied. Scientific in- 
 terest has for some time been awakened by those myster- 
 ious tones which may be heard in our waters on summer 
 nights. One of the recent publications of the Bureau of 
 Ethnology deals with our Biloxi legends, some of which are 
 woven in the following stanzas:) 
 
 There is a time when summer stars are glowing, 
 
 And night is fair along the Southern shore, 
 The sailor, resting where the tide is flowing, 
 
 Hears somewhere near, below his waiting oar, 
 A haunting tone, now vanishing, now calling. 
 
 Now lost, now luring like some elfin air; 
 In murmurous music fathoms downward falling, 
 
 It seems a dream of song imprisoned there. 
 
 The legend tells, a phantom ship is beating 
 
 On yonder bar, a wanderer ever more. 
 Its rhythmic music, evanescent, fleeting. 
 
 Stirs the lagoon and echoes on the shore. 
 O phantom ship, dost near that port Elysian 
 
 Where radiant rainbow colors ever play? 
 Shall hope's mirage return a blessed vision; 
 
 And cans't thou find a joy of yesterday? 
 
 'The legend tells of a pale horseman fleeing. 
 
 Whose steed the gnomes with metals strange have shod, 
 Who, on and on, a distant summit seeing, 
 
 His way pursues, in ocean paths untrod. 
 His spectral hoofs by the Evangel bidden 
 
 In far carillons beat in measures low. 
 Elusive tone ! dost near where that is hidden 
 
 Which made the music of the long ago? 
 
 10 
 
The legend tells of sirens of the ocean 
 
 That wander smging, where the sea palms rise, 
 And through the song's intense and measured motion 
 
 I seem to hear their soft imprisoned sighs. 
 They lure me, like the spell of a magician. 
 
 Once more I see the palaces of Spain, 
 I feel the kindling thrill of young ambition. 
 
 The tide sweeps on — the song is lost again. 
 
 The legend tells of vocal sea-sands sifting, 
 
 With vibrant forces, resonant and strong, 
 And on the surging sand-dunes fretting, drifting 
 
 Like broken hearts that hide their griefs in song. 
 Tell me, white atoms, in your sad oblation 
 
 Of drift that lies so deep that none may scan, 
 Is it forgotten in God's great creation. 
 
 Who formed the fleeting, hour-glass life of man? 
 
 The legend tells of those who long have slumbered, 
 
 A forest race too valorous to flee. 
 Who when in battle by their foes outnumbered 
 
 With clasping hands came singing to the sea. 
 The ocean drew them to her hidden keeping, 
 
 The stars watched over them in the deeps above, 
 Their death-song lingers, but the tones of weeping 
 
 Tell the eternity of human love. 
 
 11 
 
THOU AND I 
 
 I dwell on the sorrowful star, 
 
 And thou in the Eden of light, 
 Yet sometimes thy voice from afar 
 
 Calls in the dreams of the night; 
 In the silence I know thou art near, 
 
 Compassionate, tender, divine. 
 Like psalmody clear, soft voices I hear, 
 
 And know the dear voice that is thine. 
 
 I dwell on the sorrowful star, 
 
 And thou in the City of God, 
 And those mystical gates to unbar, 
 
 There waits the long pathway untrod ; 
 But to win thee away from the ecstacies there 
 
 Where the glories of Paradise beam. 
 Forgive me — self spoke, if I called thee in prayer, 
 
 And won thee to Earth in a dream. 
 
 I dwell on the sorrowful star. 
 
 And thou with the souls of the blest. 
 And not by a sigh would I mar 
 
 The peace of that Heavenly rest. 
 Be glad in the sunlight of Heaven, 
 
 Where spirits celestial may roam! 
 Sing on! — in the dusk of the even, 
 
 I may hear thee and follow thee Home. 
 
 12 
 
THE "LIVE OAK RING" 
 
 A live oak on Biloxi's shore, 
 
 'Mid mighty oaks a giant tree, 
 A score of centuries or more 
 
 Has grown in beauty by the sea. 
 Deep bedded in the wave-washed sands, 
 
 Its wondrous roots their Hfe have won. 
 And crowned with verdure there it stands 
 
 With all its branches to the sun. 
 
 How many an unrecorded day 
 
 Along its history enweaves! 
 What fancies in its shadows play 
 
 Like rainfall in its summer leaves! 
 Sweet birds, whose songs no more are ours, 
 
 Within its boughs have built and sung. 
 And at its roots forgotten flowers. 
 
 Their odorous blossom bells have swung. 
 
 'Twas here she grew, flower of the wild, 
 
 A maiden of Biloxi's race, 
 A chieftain's fair and only child, 
 
 A blithesome maid of winsome grace. 
 The bravest warriors of the chase. 
 
 To her their trophies brought, 
 And for a glimpse of her sweet face 
 
 The proudest warrior sought. 
 
 But one there came with plumed crest, 
 A Natchez warrior from the west. 
 His feet the fleetest brave outvied, 
 
 Swift as the mountain roe. 
 But when he reached the maiden's side, 
 
 His footsteps loitered slow. 
 
 13 
 
His rallying cry rang loud and clear, 
 
 To meet the coming foe, 
 But when he won the maiden's ear. 
 
 His voice was soft and low. 
 And so he told her o'er and o'er 
 He would have sunshine at his door. 
 He asked a blossom for his breast, 
 A star to light his crest. 
 
 The warrior sought the chieftain's side, 
 
 A Natchez ring he bore. 
 He asked the maiden for his bride 
 
 To leave his side no more, 
 The chieftain answered as in glee, 
 **When a ring grows on yonder tree, 
 And circles yonder bough, 
 
 Then you may bear my child from me. 
 And wed with ring and vow." 
 
 The bright waves laughed and through the tree 
 There sounded in an undertone 
 
 Voices of tender witchery, 
 "She loves, she loves but thee alone, 
 Love can not lose its own." 
 
 A storm swept o'er the Southern coast, 
 
 The grandest of the long ago. 
 And more than one brave ship was lost 
 
 In the wide gulf of Mexico. 
 But still the tree uprose in power, 
 
 And on its bough, O wonderous thing! 
 The transmutation of an hour, 
 
 Two branches twined into a ring. 
 
 14 
 
A ring so wide that one may see 
 
 Within its circle Heaven's own blue, 
 The live oak held the lover's key 
 
 To life's old story, always new. 
 
 *Tis many a year since they were wed, 
 
 And o'er their graves what fancies spring, 
 For still the pilgrim hither led 
 
 May find the oak tree and ring. 
 Above the rectory door it stands, 
 
 Its branches by the seabreath blown. 
 And upward seems to reach its hands, 
 
 Where Love may ever find its own. 
 
 THE WOOD THRUSH 
 
 Twas May, the early morning, when first I heard him calling 
 In the moss-embowered thicket where dusky shadows fall. 
 
 And still I hear the echo of all the tones enthralling. 
 The passion, the abandon, the music of his call. 
 
 Like fragrance, violet-laden, the tangled tones translated. 
 The spell of the blue Heavens, the sunlight and the sea; 
 
 It told the witching secret that all the night had waited. 
 How Earth may be an Eden, when the heart may dream 
 of thee. 
 
 On the fair face of the morning there was no look of 
 scorning, 
 There were no tones discordant in the v/ide world, — 
 ah me! — 
 The morning star shone over, while the thrush in his green 
 cover 
 Confessed himself a lover, and sang of love and thee. 
 
 15 
 
A GULF COAST LEGEND OF THE CHEROKEE ROSE 
 
 The old trees know the legends if we listen when they speak 
 Of war, of love, of romance, to kindle eye and cheek, 
 Here where the blue gulf widens and breaks along the shore. 
 The forest echoes whisper of the days that are no more, 
 And moving on the long white strand I see a shadowy host. 
 And the soldiers of Fort Louis are the guardians of thecoast. 
 
 Here in the old traditions came the maidens of the Loire, 
 The warriors of the Grand Monarque to seek the lonely 
 
 shore. 
 
 And one there came v/hose life is told in love from sire to 
 
 son, 
 He was a servant of the cross, good Father Davion, 
 With the crucifix upon his breast one night he wandered far. 
 He found his way but dimly by the shining of a star. 
 
 At last a welcome in a tent among the Cherokees, 
 He slept to the wind sighing among the forest trees, 
 And in a dream once more he saw his mother's tender eyes 
 Bending above him in the light that fell from Paradise. 
 She pointed to a snow white flower "'Twill lead thee home," 
 
 she said. 
 He gazed in joy and wonderment until the dream was fled. 
 The petals were like snow flakes, the heart a golden light. 
 The tiny tendrils reached to Heaven as though it longed for 
 
 flight, 
 And on its boughs, as if to speak with love that cheers and 
 
 warms, 
 He saw amid a thousand stars the Master's crown of thorns. 
 
 Among the wandering Cherokees he knelt in silent prayer. 
 While the roses swayed their chalices like incense on the air. 
 And the morning birds above him in the magnolia tree. 
 Sang on of love and Heaven, a Benedicite. 
 
 Away! away he hastened, the cross upon his breast, 
 Far lies the good Fort Louis, and peril marks the quest. 
 
 16 
 
The gray moss curtains darken the depths of shade 
 
 unknown, 
 And in the West the storm clouds threaten in undertone, 
 The wild beasts of the forest lurk on the lonely path, 
 And nearer came the tempest, with tropic gloom and wrath. 
 A thonsand boding voices called Father Davion, 
 But he thought him of the Master in the wilderness alone. 
 And all along his pathway the snow white blossoms grew. 
 And smiled upon the Father as upon a face they knew, 
 "Follow," they seemed to whisper, "For weareleadingthee." 
 "Onward and ever onward to the old Fort by the sea." 
 
 They tangled o'er the bayous and made a bridge across, 
 Through jungles of palmettoes and clouds of Spanish moss. 
 Where the Yuccas spread their lances in battle league 
 
 arrayed. 
 Where the dark streams were the deepest, they wandered 
 
 unafraid. 
 And o'er the shifting sand dunes, where doubt and danger 
 
 bars, 
 The white rose of the Cherokecs builded a path of stars. 
 'Till after many a sorrow, leaning on Sauvolle's breast. 
 The good Priest told the vision that all his journey blest, 
 And heard the brave Commander, pledge on his bended 
 
 knee, 
 To build there the first chapel in Biloxi by the sea. 
 
 The guns of old Fort Louis have crumbled many a spring. 
 But Sauvolle's dirge still lingers where the winds and 
 
 waters sing. 
 The true knights of the Fleur de Lis no longer guard the 
 
 keep. 
 The lovely dames and 'demoiselles are many a year asleep. 
 The sails that bore their barges no longer proudly float, 
 Their armor and their swords are rust, the reeds sigh in 
 
 the moat, 
 The chapel walls have fallen and faded into dust, 
 
 But the old trees keep the legends as in a sacred trust. 
 And still with every summer the forest ways disclose 
 The flower of Father Davion, the Cherokee white rose. 
 
 17 
 
TERIAS LISA 
 
 (At Ship Island, Gulf of Mexico.) 
 
 Frail habitant of yonder shore, 
 
 From off the leaf that sheltered thee 
 What wondrous craft thy being bore 
 
 Safe through the cyclone of the sea! 
 Thy citron-yellow wings are bright, 
 
 And soft the rosy fringe they wear, 
 And rays of bloom and silver light 
 
 Adorn thee, blossom of the air 
 
 The Cassia, on whose silken flower 
 
 Thy fragile life its being fills. 
 What has thou garnered of its dower 
 
 To waft thee where thy spirit wills ? 
 What dream of flowers of fairer hues, 
 
 Of lights more beautiful than dawn, 
 Of winds of balm and honey-dews 
 
 Allured thee ever on and on ? 
 
 Thou didst but ask, O fairy spirit, 
 
 A blossom cup, the morning beam. 
 Companions for thy circling flight, 
 
 And love to share thy rainbow dream! 
 Here on the white, sea-drifted shore 
 
 Thy feeble, fluttering life I scan ; 
 Thou tellest the lesson o'er and o'er,— 
 
 Thou art the history of man. 
 
 18 
 
THE DAUPHINE ISLES 
 
 When twilight shadows darken down, 
 
 And vesper hour is o'er, 
 A little maid with eyes of brown 
 
 Seeks the Biloxi shore, 
 Where gulls are skimming o'er the sands, 
 
 And night birds inland flee. 
 With eager eyes and clasped hands 
 
 She looks toward the sea. 
 And as she scans the waters o'er 
 
 A song her watch beguiles, 
 A boat is coming to the shore 
 
 From off the Dauphine Isles. 
 
 She waited when the morn afar 
 
 Hid all her rainbow light. 
 She lingered when the evening star 
 
 Was shining through the night. 
 The King might lose his royal crown. 
 
 And dynasties might fall, 
 Republics rise and thrones go down — 
 
 The maid cares not at all. 
 She sees the coming of a sail. 
 
 With happy tears and smiles. 
 The boat that weathered out the gale 
 
 From off the Dauphine Isles. 
 
 Fast, fast, the sail comes into sight, 
 
 The tide comes o'er the bar. 
 And yonder the Biloxi light 
 
 Shines like a golden star. 
 Above the dip of eager oars 
 
 The sailor's greetings ring, 
 
 19 
 
And deft and fast the sail he lowers, 
 
 Ah, who would be a king 
 If such a maid would win him home 
 
 With kisses and with smiles ? 
 Or choose on wider seas to roam 
 
 From off the Dauphine Isles? 
 
 NIGHT ON THE GULF COAST 
 
 My boat is drifting to the shore, 
 A track of silver in its wake, 
 Around the prow the ripples break. 
 
 And diamonds flash from off the oar. 
 
 A crescent moon is in the blue, 
 
 And to the West the evening star, 
 Shines brightly o'er the harbor bar, 
 
 'And where the white beach comes to view: 
 
 Like some mysterious snowy scroll 
 
 A line of sea gulls far away 
 
 Fades where the shadows bridge the bay 
 Where sounds a sailor's barcarole, 
 A la Creole, the soft refrain 
 
 To words of witcherie are set 
 Soft as the fall of the summer rain 
 
 And tender as a heart's regret. 
 
 Along the shore the myrtle bends 
 To scatter clouds of roseate bloom 
 And the pale jasmine's night perfume, 
 
 Like incense at an altar blends. 
 
 Balsamic odors fill the breeze 
 
 The fragrance of the dark pine woods 
 The breath of yonder solitudes 
 
 |)f orange and magnolia trees. 
 
 20 
 
Leagues outward burns the island light 
 A planet fire untremulous, 
 While soft and clear the angelus 
 
 Rings out the message of the night. 
 
 I<c. now a ripi'ling voice is heard. 
 
 The ears are stilled to catch the note, 
 All June^s rare transport fills his throat, 
 
 He sings of love — the mocking bird ! 
 
 THE NIGHT JASMINE 
 
 Thou vesper blossom, on thy petals white 
 A tear has fallen from the summer night; 
 O'er thee the night-wind blows; 
 
 Thy sweeest fragrance, hidden from the light, 
 The darkness doth disclose. 
 
 Ah ! dost thou know that thou an alien art. 
 That from thy home thou bloomest far apart 
 
 Thou dainty pearl of flowers. 
 Giving unseen the treasures of thy heart. 
 
 Through all the darksome hours ! — 
 
 Hast thou a sigh for thy companions flown. 
 And dost thou waft a message to thine own 
 
 Where such as thou may'st come? 
 In darkness art thou dreaming there alone 
 
 Of Paradise and Home? 
 
 21 
 
A CLUSTER OF LICHEN 
 
 A fragment torn from yon gray stone 
 
 The wind has blown to me ; 
 Bit of Creation's hvery known 
 
 To mount, and rock, and tree. 
 Long aeons ere the flowers smiled 
 
 Its lowly type had birth; 
 Bloom of the youth-world, first beguiled 
 
 To grace fair Mother Earth. 
 A hundred year perchance and more 
 
 It clung to yon gray stone, 
 Ere it had curved a tiny spore 
 
 From granite atoms grown. 
 
 Pray tell me, and thy worth enhance, 
 
 Fair prophet of the flower. 
 How, from the clogs of circumstance. 
 
 Thou grewest from hour to hour ? 
 Whence came thy patient strength to wait, 
 
 Thy long unyielding strife. 
 Who taught thee to assimilate 
 
 Thy elemental life ? 
 
 Then tell me of a soul long gone 
 
 That strove in doubt and fear. 
 Nor felt the glory of the dawn, 
 
 Nor saw the morn appear, 
 Yet patient wrought, in pain and tears, 
 
 With courage strong, divine. 
 Back in the far primeval years. 
 
 Say, was it kin of thine ? 
 
 22 
 
THE MUSIC OF THE PINES 
 
 The Dryad knows the minstrel who taught the pines to sing 
 
 'Till every green leaf needle wakes as a harper's string. 
 
 The sweet Aeolian voices across the forest call 
 
 In fairy tones and Elfin that hold the heart in thrall. 
 
 Mysterious magician whate'er the secret be 
 
 The pine woods of the Gulf Coast tell the music of the sea. 
 
 The song of merry barges with silver sails abreast 
 Re-echoes when the cloud drift is blowing from the West, 
 The rush of the tide water along the sandy bar, 
 Sweeps through the forest unison like rhelody afar 
 Like spirit answering spirit, exultant, glad and free, 
 The pine woods of the Gulf Coast sing the music of the sea. 
 
 And when the pines are dreaming deep dreams of days long 
 
 gone 
 You may hear in their complaining the sea's requiem tone. 
 For argosies full freighted that vanished long ago 
 To ports in some far distance whose names we may not 
 
 know. 
 And halycon tones seem calling where troubled hearts may 
 
 flee; — 
 The pine v/oods of the Gulf Coast sigh the music of the sea. 
 
 A COAST LIGHT 
 
 When twilight darkens into night 
 
 The pendule tells the hour 
 When Myra makes the signal light 
 
 In yonder lighthouse tower. 
 Bright as the evening star it glows 
 
 The wide, dark waters o'er; 
 The home-returning sailor knows 
 
 His own Biloxi shore. 
 
 23 
 
When tempest-driven the vessel rocks, 
 
 And lurid lightnings flame, 
 When storms beat down and thunder shocks, 
 
 The signal burns the same. 
 Brave as a bird, poised in its flight 
 
 Above the tempest's roar. 
 Beams out the guardian of the night 
 
 Along Biloxi's shore. 
 
 It tells of waiting household mirth 
 
 Where laughing children play. 
 Where wives and mothers light the hearth. 
 
 The while they watch and pray. 
 It tells of heroes of the seas. 
 
 Of ships that come no more; 
 While buoyant sails float with the breeze 
 
 Toward Biloxi's shore. 
 
 May He who lights the evening star 
 
 His watch above her keep. 
 Whose hands, with faithful care, unbar 
 
 The shadows of the deep, 
 And One, who walked on Galilee 
 
 And stilled the waves of yore. 
 
 Bring home the sailor on the sea 
 
 Safe to Biloxi's shore. 
 
 A SOUTHERN NIGHT 
 
 O dost- thou know a vesper bloom 
 Whose fragrance fills the evening gloom 
 
 With soft, bewitching power. 
 Unfolding when the stars of night 
 Make all the dark-blue heavens bright? 
 
 It is the jasmine flower. 
 
 24 
 
"King Louis' ship has come to shore, 
 It was his hand that sent us bread!" 
 
 But as they gave where famine plead, 
 With bended knee, the soldier said: 
 
 " 'Twas not the King who lit the way — 
 It was the prayer of Eona." 
 
 The forts they builded long ago 
 Along the Gulf of Mexico 
 
 Are buried in the drifting sand; 
 Their very graves we may not know, 
 
 Those brave defenders of our land. 
 But here, where memory traces still 
 Names of LaSalle, and Iberville, 
 
 Sauvolle, DeSoto, Perrier 
 St. Denis, Grozat, Livaudais 
 
 Tradition dreams of Eona. 
 
 For still, when summer nights are dark, 
 
 With not a star to light or save. 
 The watchful sailor oft will mark 
 
 That wondrous light upon the wave. 
 It glitters 'neath his bending oar, 
 
 It flashes in his vessel's wake, 
 It dashes shining on the shore, 
 
 As summer lightnings flash and break. 
 If there be wreckers any more, 
 
 The boldest seaman can not say 
 But somewhere on a distant shore 
 
 He hears the prayer of Eona. 
 
 83 
 
THE TRUE SONG OF THE MOCKING BIRD 
 
 The true song of the mocking bird 
 Far in the woodland lone is heard 
 No mimic strain therein has part 
 The tones come singing from his heart, 
 Another note he brings each day, 
 Where roses o'er the lattice stray, 
 The song in which the world has part 
 Is not the true song of his heart. 
 
 In dulcet palpitating tone 
 He sings and dreams himself alore, 
 Such music in the measure lies 
 "iTis like a voice from Paradise, 
 i, softly stealing through the wood, 
 Capture the song, a sweet prelude, 
 It thrills the dusky solitude. 
 Dream of a nest and downy brood. 
 
 Through all the song's bewitching power, 
 There floats as fragrance from a flower 
 A spell as though a haunting tone 
 Had drifted from a joy long flown. 
 Dear bird, your secret who would tell, 
 One hint of your sweet madrigal. 
 Enough one listening ear had part 
 And heard the singing of a heart. 
 
 34 
 
SHIP ISLAND LIGHT 
 
 Ship Island seems a drift of snow, 
 
 Fort Massachusetts guards her glory, 
 
 With legends of the long ago 
 Each cannon, a memento mori 
 
 On pyramidal tower of white 
 
 Here burns the red fixed island light. 
 
 Isles of the Gulf of Mexico 
 
 Rise white and fair by Heaven planted, 
 
 And there the birds rock to and fro 
 And sing old songs of ports enchanted. 
 
 The siren songs that fill the night 
 
 Around the fair Ship Island light. 
 
 When midnight darkens o'er the sea 
 
 And through the gloom the storm clouds mutter. 
 When hidden shoals are to the lee 
 
 The main mast bends, the top sails flutter. 
 The sailor knows no gladder -^ight 
 Than glows in the Ship Island light. 
 
 For twenty years through storm and shine 
 
 As mariners may well remember. 
 The clear, true light, like Love Divine, 
 <.A(n^ .Has shewn on high a glowing ember 
 The seaman's star to guide his flight 
 Through the wild passes of '^he night. 
 
 Brave Dan McCall, no hurricane 
 With breaking waves of crested splendor, 
 
 Like mighty armies of the m.ain 
 Has ever dared thee to surrender. 
 
 Firm at thy post, in Duty's might 
 
 Guard thou the old Ship Island light. 
 
 S5 
 
A SPANISH GULF SONG 
 
 The far gulf mists are rising 
 
 The white caps fleck the sea, 
 But to the fishermen's cottage 
 
 Asong floats merrily. 
 The Spanish sailor dreaming 
 Flies with his gallant sail, 
 I hear the echoes calling, 
 In music on the gale 
 
 Toy a casa! Voy a casa 
 I'm going home! 
 
 A flower from the sea marshes, 
 
 Shells from the Chandeleur, 
 A sea bird from the storm-wreck 
 
 They all are garnered here. 
 Drift from old ocean's treasure 
 
 To deck the household shrine, 
 A wealth that knows no measure 
 
 And bears Love's countersign. 
 
 Voy a caSa! Voy a casa. 
 I'm going home! 
 
 "Eliiempo se compone!" 
 
 He ties the anchor chain; 
 1 think of Salamanca 
 
 And many a port in Spain 
 The citadel of Malaga 
 
 The stronghold of the Moor 
 But the sailor only dreamed of her 
 Who waited at his door. 
 
 Voy a casa! Voy a casa, 
 Vm. going home! 
 
 M 
 
SAILING ON THE GULF 
 
 Upon the Gulf of Mexico 
 
 The sails are flying free, 
 The stormy winds of winter blow 
 
 Boreas rules the sea. 
 The sailors of the Southern coast. 
 Are brave as any sea may boast. 
 
 Upon the Gulf of Mexico 
 
 Afar in other years, 
 Came motley crews, a rendezvous. 
 
 The master buccaneers. 
 Homeric chapters might be told 
 Of heavy guns and pirates bold, 
 Of men who prowled the sea for gold. 
 
 Around the islands far away 
 
 Whose lights to-night we greet, 
 Along the Barrataria Bay 
 
 Sailed Jean and Pierre Lafitte. 
 When midnight's mystic powers prevail, 
 'Tis said, dark hull and phantom sail 
 And boom of guns, repeat the tale. 
 
 Upon the Gulf of Mexico 
 
 Brave heroes proved their zeal, 
 Here came lo Salic long time ago 
 
 And gallant Iberville, 
 And they who bore the pain and loss. 
 On holy eves their banners toss 
 For here they raised our Saviour's cross. 
 
 87 
 
Upon the Gulf of Mexico 
 
 A sea bird since that time 
 Whose dwelling place we may not know 
 
 Sings like a matin chime. 
 
 "Prie-Dieu" sounds near and far, 
 In dulcet tones no storm may mar, 
 As though it floated from a star. 
 
 FILLES A LA CASSETTE 
 
 Of all the bright romances 
 The Southern land may boast, 
 
 A glamour of sweet fancies, 
 
 Historic page enhances 
 A vista of the coast. 
 
 His majesty's fair cargo. 
 
 Maids of the Fleur de Lis, 
 They came the dear embargo. 
 As in another Argo, 
 
 To seek the Mexic seas. 
 
 The very waves were singing 
 
 In dancing spray and foam. 
 When o'er the waters winging 
 The welcome ship came bringing 
 
 The maidens to their home. 
 
 The ocean fires were lighted 
 
 With all their phosphor glow. 
 And the crescent moon invited 
 Where knight and maid were plighted 
 On the Gulf of Mexico. 
 
 38 
 
''Neath jasmine and pomegranate, 
 
 The hve oak, bay and pine, 
 Their love hymn, Heaven begun it. 
 And smihng star and planet 
 Beheld their altar shrine. 
 
 And so the old songs glowing. 
 Drift from the Troubadours, 
 Romana's speech bestowing, 
 
 In dulcet tones and flowing 
 Came to the Southern shores. 
 
 In woodland's dim seclusion 
 Woke chansons of romance, 
 
 And in a witching fusion 
 
 Song voices Andalusion 
 
 Spoke in the tones of France. 
 
 ASTRAND 
 
 Yon little boat is moored so low 
 That only one who mindful heeds 
 
 Would ever grant its power to go 
 Beyond the sands, beyond the reeds, 
 
 Where ocean billows ebb and flow. 
 
 And yet this boat its builder wrought 
 Year after year in toilsome mood. 
 
 Its gyres and timbers patient sought 
 Through heavy hours of solitude, 
 And dreamed himself an argonaut. 
 
 39 
 
No passing eyes to-day divine 
 
 The tale of all his long desire, 
 Although he builded strong and fine 
 
 He wrought its bolts in furnace fire, 
 Its anchors forged in storm and shine. 
 
 What fabrics of his treasure strove 
 What hues of gold, and tints of rose, 
 
 In yonder drooping sails he wove 
 
 The wide, wide world nor cares nor knows 
 
 He bade it speed — his work of love. 
 
 But never came the lagging tide 
 To lift the boat upon its breast 
 
 And all the crew forsook his side 
 
 And wandered East and wandered West, 
 
 In vain to launch his boat he tried. 
 
 There comes no passing boat in hail 
 No signal through the distance gleams. 
 
 Dark mists the seaward vistas veil; 
 To realize the builder's dreams 
 
 No breeze unfurls the silent sail. 
 
 Round prow and keel slow drifts the sand, 
 And they who pass nor heed, nor see 
 
 One pull to aid the builder's hand 
 
 Had launched this little boat. Ah me 
 
 This waiting boat so long astrand. 
 
 But may be in some future hour 
 Some delver in the sands shall tell, 
 
 A builder built by right or dower, 
 This builder builded staunch and well. 
 
 And then the world shall own his power. 
 
 40 
 
MEMORIAL CHURCH OF THE REDEEMER.— BILOXI 
 ON THE GULF COAST 
 
 Built in Memory of Rev. Robert G. Hinsdale, S. T. D., by 
 Mr. H. T. Howard. 
 
 O Love of Heaven, the lifting of the heart 
 
 From this poor dust unto our God on High, 
 In this fair fane in which to-day Thou art 
 
 Man's aspiration reaches to the sky. 
 Cross to the Heavens, and portals to the sea. 
 
 Wide as the Earth thy influence may flow; 
 And as a storm-tossed bird may homeward flee 
 
 Thy brooding peace the troubled heart may know. 
 Forever green thy sheltering live oaks stand, 
 
 As the dear memories thy shrines enfold, 
 A beacon light upon the sea and land 
 
 Thy Liturgy shall call through years untold, 
 Type of high Faith, the purest and the best, 
 Of love to man, God's blessins" on thee rest. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE GULF FORTS 
 
 'Twas midnight hour, and in the years long flown 
 
 The Holy Father at the altar shrine 
 Knelt, where a breviary illuminated shone 
 
 With Rafl'aelle's dreams of glowing forms divine. 
 
 From ether depths they slowly seemed to glide. 
 Poised toward Heaven, along a mystic bar, 
 
 Till as he gazed, a star he dreamed outvied 
 The shining page, and beckoned him afar. 
 
 Then in a vision on a wandering v/ay 
 Where Fort Barrancas looks upon the bay. 
 Above the bluff, he saw the red star shine, 
 As some strange portent and a warning sign. 
 
 41 
 
On Santa Rosa's Isle high over all, 
 
 He saw in wonderment red halos play, 
 On old Fort Pickens closed and bastioned wall 
 
 And on the navy yard of Fort McRee, 
 At the sea entrance on the Dauphine Isle 
 
 Where Fort Gaines stands, a guardian pentagon, 
 At old Fort Bowyer it lingered for a while. 
 
 And redly glowed above Fort Marion. 
 
 And where Fort Jackson and Port Philip stand, 
 
 A maritime defense from Southern seas. 
 The red star halted, as by slow command 
 
 At CMf Menteur and the Rigolets. 
 Above Fort Pike and over Fort Macomb, 
 
 Fort Livingston and Barrataria Bay, 
 And where Ship Island lights the seaman home 
 
 Over Fort Davis faded slow away. 
 Startled the Father wakened, from afar 
 
 There came strange voices and hurrying feet, 
 '"Tis at our ports," they cried, "the war! the war! 
 
 And all our forts make ready for the fleet. 
 The darkness o'er our land is sweeping low 
 The war cloud fills the Gulf of Mexico. 
 Our bravest heroes may return no more 
 And war's red star is risen on our shore!" 
 
 The Father answered with a saintly grace, 
 A, wondrous light shone on his pallid face. 
 He spoke as one who clearly knew and saw 
 With second sight surpassing nature's law. 
 In some rapt vision the freed soul had been 
 Upon the border worlds of life unseen. 
 And in that moment of supreme release 
 Had heard the prophecy of coming peace. 
 
 42 
 
MARJORIE AND JOE 
 
 White sand is drifted o'er the floor, 
 
 White as the cotton bloom, 
 Like mist the walls are shrouded o'er 
 
 And silence fills the room. 
 Here where she sleeps her narrow bed 
 
 With immortelles is white, 
 Pale burn the tapers at her head 
 
 The long October night. 
 
 An humble fisher's cottage there 
 But ye who come should bring, 
 
 Such reverence as ye would bear 
 The palace of a King. 
 
 When yester night her brother's boat 
 Was wrecked on yonder sea 
 
 For a brave hour they kept afloat 
 Joe and Sweet Marjorie. 
 
 *'If I still cling to you I know 
 
 You'll never reach the land'' 
 She softly kissed her brother Joe 
 
 While she unclasped her hand. 
 A moment and the mad waves toss 
 
 Above her golden head ; 
 Joe sees it holding to the cross 
 
 Joe weeping by the bed. 
 
 He sees the tide come bringing home 
 
 The sea drift to the strand. 
 Her lovely shadow in the foam, 
 
 Her face upon the sand. 
 The Gulf hath treasures fair to see 
 
 But none more rare I know. 
 Than the last kiss of Marjorie 
 
 For her poor brother Joe. 
 
 43 
 
THE OLD INDIAN TRAIL 
 
 Here Pascagoula, Chickasaw, 
 Here Pensacola and Choctaw 
 
 Have wandered face to face, 
 And here they came the Muscogees, 
 The old chiefs of the Cherokees, 
 
 And the Biloxi race. 
 
 With gourds and shells their music rude 
 Filled all this Gulf Coast solitude, 
 
 And yonder falling mound, 
 Holds battle signs of long ago, 
 Tells where their torch fires used to glow 
 
 Who sleeps there, under ground. 
 
 Across their long trail you may pass 
 'Neath c3T)ress trees and sassafras 
 
 Where the palmetto grows. 
 The live oak, like them, stoic-bom, 
 Untouched by flattery or scorn 
 Only their history knows. 
 
 Here by the cool spring is the sign 
 Where they encamped; the muscadine 
 
 Half hides it from the sight, 
 Over the hayous fringed with moss 
 Their winged arrows sped cross 
 
 With swift and steady flight. 
 
 The reeds still sing their lullabies 
 And still their mystic watch fires rise, 
 
 And many a secret tale, 
 Is told to him in solitude 
 Who walks the long path through the wood 
 
 Along the Indian trail. 
 
 44 
 
A MIRAGE OF THE GULF 
 
 It shines with spires and temples golden 
 
 I see afar its curtains rise, 
 By sapphire seas it is enfolden 
 
 This city of the azure skies. 
 
 Its banners float triumphal over 
 
 With diamond lights above the dome, 
 The islands in the distance hover 
 
 And rainbow bridges span the foam. 
 Aerial lights like gems are glowing 
 
 In splendor o'er the misty sea, 
 And sails across the distance blowing 
 
 Seem bringing home the loved to me. 
 And where the ramparts shine and glisten 
 
 Celestial choirs, O lovely band! 
 Make mystic music, we may listen 
 
 To voices of the Better Land. 
 O paths of light to fields Elysian 
 
 Between us trackless waters rise, 
 A veil of shadow o'er the vision 
 
 The mirage fades, the daylight dies. 
 
 45 
 
A CHARM OF ST. JOHN'S EVE 
 
 A lily in her girdle and in her hand a rune, 
 The fairest Creole maiden of all the flowers in June, 
 She wears a fragrant garland most fair to look upon; 
 'Tis the eve of the midsummer, the vigil of Saint John. 
 
 Mysterious golden tendrils, and wands from herbs unknown, 
 In depths of sombre forests she gathered there alone. 
 And all the silence whispered a word she could not name. 
 For light that came upon her face in sudden tints of flame. 
 
 The mocking birds above her the sweet confession heard, 
 The bells of the night jasmine at her passing footfall stirred, 
 The dryad of the forest, the spirit of the pines. 
 Enshrouded her with twilight and shadows of the vines. 
 
 She gathered the Saint Johns'swort to find an answer true, 
 And tried the spell prophetic the Voudoo Princess knew; 
 Then when the stars above her gave forth their golden sign, 
 She breathed upon the garland, and placed it on the shrine. 
 
 This dainty, fragrant garland, twined with an antique rune. 
 With subtle charm and fragrance won from the heart of 
 
 June; 
 When midnight bells are tolling, its magic power shall wait. 
 Where lovers' vows assemble around the dreamland gate. 
 
 Grant ere the morning wakens before the maiden's eyes, 
 A fairy dream prophetic in beauty to arise — 
 To wear the sweet enchantment of life's unclouded dawn. 
 The gift of the midsummer and the Festa of Saint John. 
 
 46 
 
THE COMING OF THE DRYAD 
 
 The sails are set to the fishing boats, 
 
 The mists of the morn are clearing, 
 The tarpon's silvery shadow floats 
 
 And flashes, disappearing. 
 Sea birds call from the white sand dune, 
 Sea waves whisper a mystic rune, 
 And not a tone from her cadence lost 
 The Dryad is coming along the coast. 
 
 The live oak shadows above her sway 
 
 And the mistletoe, low bending. 
 Laurel, magnolia, cedar and bay. 
 
 Their symphonies are blending. 
 
 Listen! the pines the prelude know 
 Flute-like tones from the cane brake b;:low, 
 Here in the green palmetto dells 
 Witcherie waits of a hundred spells, 
 Aeolus wakens the wild wood rose 
 
 And the moquier's song together. 
 The red pomegranate buds unclose 
 
 As largess to the weather, 
 The Nerides with the lilies float 
 The marsh reeds answer Syrinx's note; 
 The sphinx on his own cape jasmine swings, 
 
 The bee is down in the clover, 
 And the butterflies have found their wings 
 
 From the rainbow sky hung over. 
 Nymphs of the woods and hills are glad 
 Naid, Echo and Oread, 
 Pan is here with his singing host. 
 The Dyrad is coming along the coast! 
 
 47 
 
THE SIEUR ALEXANDRE'STAPERS 
 
 In Chalevoix's old journal find the name 
 Of Sieur Alexandre^ surgeon of the coast, 
 
 He came in time of her colonial fame 
 A meagre record his, the uttermost. 
 
 That from the coast wax myrtle a pure flame 
 Grew at his bidding and the records boast 
 
 The tapers that he made were pure and bright 
 
 And seemed the very witcherie of light. 
 
 Etherial, like some mystic power, 'tis said 
 
 Beneath his touch the waxen flame burned clear. 
 And even in the smoke sweet perfume shed. 
 
 Like the young leaves new gathered with the year. 
 In old Fort Louis, in those times long fled 
 'Round dying beds, when nights were dark and lone 
 Through weary vigils, oft the tapers shone. 
 The secret haunt of many a flower and tree 
 
 The Sieur Alexandre come to know. 
 He hoped to send each year across the sea 
 
 Wax myrtle tapers, blanched as driven snow, 
 Marked with the insignia of the fleur-de-lis 
 From the new world to come, a blessed sign, 
 A fitting light for consecrated shrine. 
 
 Beneath the flag of lilies he would make, 
 By searchings oft and labor's patient art 
 
 A flame, like incense for His blessed sake 
 Who knows the secret places of the heart 
 
 And through the midnight forest light should break. 
 
 And songs of joy the Red Man's litany. 
 
 Sweet as the fragrance of the myrtle tree. 
 
 48 
 
Across the years tradition pictures him 
 
 Bringing his gifts to light the altars there, 
 The silent nights were mist obscured and dim, 
 
 And with the incense rose the breath of prayer. 
 The coming ship beyond the horizon's rim! — 
 The live oaks spread their cover, — the gray moss,- 
 While the fair tapers lit the altar cross. 
 
 The Sieur Alexandre is long forgot 
 
 In the new lights of swiftly flitting years, 
 Yet when to-day in yonder myrtle grot 
 I read the story of his hopes and fears 
 The myrtle shadow was a sacred spot, 
 His name, the soft leaf music murmured low 
 And as a star his memory seemed to glow. 
 Lord, grant our lives when day is done may be 
 
 As fair as this, a poor man's humble mark, 
 A hope to make a light so fair, so free. 
 
 That it may shine out clearly in the dark; 
 That on our path Heaven's radiance we may see 
 And to the cross may bring life's fairest bloom. 
 And make a white light in a world of gloom. 
 
 17X7- 
 
 49 
 
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