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Sleeping in the dew-drop,

Or dancing in the hail,

Or dressing up the wintry woods
In sleety coats of mail,

Sporting in the cataract,

Or sinking 'neath the sod,
It everywhere, in every form,
Reflects the love of God.

REUNION

By JOSEPH TYRONE DERRY

[The Strife of Brothers,' 1906. Copyright, The Neale Publishing Company, and used here by permission. Book VII, lines 439-458.]

May North and South, each chastened in her turn,
From past a lesson of forbearance learn,

And wage through courts and ballots all their fights
For Fed'ral government or for State rights.
Days of fraternal strife, thank God, are past!
Ne'er to return, we trust; nor let there last
Heart-burning thoughts of those embittered years,
Gloomy with force, oppression, wrong and tears,
When the mailed hand of unrelenting Hate
Was raised to crush each prostrate Southern State,
Till the great Court Supreme in might arose
And checked the haughty power of Freedom's foes,
While Northern ballots to our rescue came
And from Columbia's shield effaced the shame
Of sov'reign States by sister States oppressed,
And gave from tyranny a grateful rest.
But in our nation's heart let there remain
Remembrance of each deed without a stain,
Whether of Northern or of Southern son,
On field by Fed'ral or Confed'rate won.

A GALAXY OF SOUTHERN HEROES

By ORION T. DOZIER

['Poems,' 1905. Copyright, The Neale Publishing Company, and used here by permission.]

And o'er yon Old Dominion State,

Star gemmed, her crown with glory shines,

With Southern pride I here avow

That nowhere on this earth's confines

Can there be found another land

Which can so many heroes claim,

And bright amid her brightest stars
Shines glorious Stonewall Jackson's name.

And glittering like a royal gem

Above my own fair Georgia high,

I see another brilliant star,

As bright as ever decked the sky,
Intrepid, brilliant Gordon, brave,

The patriot, statesman, warrior grand,
Of Southern manhood, brightest type,
An honor to his native land.

Nor less resplendent is the light

Of him, old South Carolina's star,
Whose fiery soul was made by God

To blaze amid the storms of war;
And high on fame's eternal height,
With all the glorious and sublime,
Wade Hampton's name, in glory set,
Will shine while roll the wheels of time.

Now see yon grand majestic stream,
The great mid-continental sea,

Whose course no human force can check,
With currents deep yet flowing free,
Unswerving in its onward sweep,
Proud Mississippi, king of streams,
See, and behold while gazing there
A fitting type to me it seems.

Of him whose grand and kingly soul-
Too strong for tyrant bonds to quell,
Too deep for prejudice to mar,

Too broad to curb by prison cellProud, God-like man, I breathe his name With reverence and with deathless loveJeff Davis, brightest star of fame,

May heaven rest his soul above.

But where, oh! where, my wavering muse,
Where wilt thou lead me in thy flight
To find a type or simile

Of him, the grandest, noblest knight
That ever sword from scabbard drew?
Not in the land Columbus gave
Canst thou a likeness for him find;
Then seek beyond old ocean's wave

Where God His grandest works designed;
Go view the Alps and Pyrenees,
Then onward to the Himalayas,

Where great Mount Everest, rising, sees All other mountains far below,

His own grand form enrobed with cloud, His royal head God crowned with snowYes, go and view this mountain proud—

This great majestic, towering king—
The grandest, highest of the world-
God's monument of strength and power,
Defying every storm that's hurled,
All lightning blows from rival foes;

Yes, go and you this mountain see,
Then tell me if thou yet hast found
A prototype of Robert Lee!

HAIL, ST. PATRICK'S DAY

By ORION T. DOZIER

['Poems,' 1905. Copyright, The Neale Publishing Company, and used here by permission.]

Hail! all hail, St. Patrick's day!
And hail to Erin's glory,
A matchless land of heroes grand,
Who live in song and story.
Oh, patron saint of wondrous land,
Thy name shall be immortal,
And light the way through endless day
To Heaven's blessed portal.

Oh, sainted man of wondrous mind,
Filled with inspiration,

By Heaven lent and Heaven sent,
To civilize a nation.

And where on earth is there a land

Today that does not claim

On history's page some saint or sage―
Some glorious Irish name?

And hail! all hail! to that green flag,
Old Erin's sacred treasure;

A thousand years through strife and tears
And bloodshed without measure,

It floats today without a stain,

An alien though it be,

A tale to tell of freedom's knell,
As doth the flag of Lee.

Yes, hail! all hail! to Erin's flag,
Exiled though now it be,

In other climes and other times
That flag shall yet be free,
And float as proudly to the breeze
As when unfurled of yore,
For Fates decree it shall be free

And float for evermore!

Then hark! oh, hark, ye Irish sons!
Behold your country bleeding,

While saints above and sires you love

With you her cause are pleading,
And bid you, by the sacred ties
Of all that's dear on earth,

To break in twain the tyrant's chain,
And free your land of birth.

Then grasp, oh, grasp the glorious flag
That bears no blot of shame,
And swear by love of God above
And by St. Patrick's name,
That you will ne'er forsake its cause
Till it in triumph waves,

That o'er the foam you'll bear it home,
Or bear it to your graves.

MOTHER-LOVE

(A Lullaby)

By PATTIE WILLIAMS GEE

['The Palace of the Heart and Other Poems of Love,' 1904. By permission of Miss Gee.]

Sleep, baby, sleep!

The Sun to kiss the mighty Sea stoops low
And o'er the world the weird shadows blow

So deep;

But Mother's love sinks lower than the shadows
And sweepeth broader than the ocean's billows;
Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Life lies in mortal grief where sorrows throng
And press upon the heart so strangely long,

So deep;

But Mother's love is longer than life's sorrow,
A love o'erleaping each unseen tomorrow;

Sleep, baby, sleep!

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