And I'm longing, longing, longing for the day of my home coming, For the lowing of the cattle and the shadows on the stream, For the mocking-bird's far calling, and the laden bees' soft humming, And the night-dews falling coolly as the shadows in a dream. Oh, the rolling, rolling prairies, and the grasses waving, waving Like green billows neath the gulf breeze in the perfumed, purple gloam! Oh, my heart is heavy, heavy, and my eyes are craving, craving, For the fertile plains and forests of my far-off Texas home. POCAHONTAS By J. T. LITTLETON ['The Story of Captain Smith and Pocahontas,' 1907. Copyright, Publishing House of the M.E. Church, South. By permission.] Sweet Pocahontas, Indian maiden born, With thine we rank thy noble brother's name, Full worthy each of an immortal fame; For when our nation in its lurid morn, Was feebly struggling, swift to help ye came Its beauty lures us, and we fain would know Nor seek to know, but gladly drink and grow. VICTORY, By J. T. LITTLETON ['The Story of Captain Smith and Pocahontas,' 1907. Copyright, Publishing House of the M.E. Church, South. By permission.] Calmly gazing at his captors Dressed in bear skins and raccoon, More like creatures of the forest, Seeing in them superstition Throttling with uncanny hand Quickly, as by intuition, Reckoning thus with reason clear, Drew from underneath his doublet Ever northward points the needle. Childrenlike, they fain would clutch, Wondrous strange! It was a spirit! Gone their wrath for very wonder; They preferred to lead him round To their wigwams for their sachems, From beyond the mighty sea. So they led him with great triumph Moisture-laden, filled with specters, Slowly while the morning dawneth Bearing strangely and so weirdly Dream and doubt from hearts of men. Then the tide began its turning, First with eddies, ebb and flow, Rippling here and resting yonder, Hardly knowing how to go. Blood of kindred crying vengeance, Whispering to adopt the white man, Struggled daily with each other Though the odds were sore against him Calmly, for the red papooses, For the girls and for the boys, Winning thus the hearts of children, THE OLD NORTH STATE A TOAST By MRS. LEONORA MONTEIRO MARTIN [Written for a banquet of the North Carolina Society of Richmond, Virginia, May 20, 1904.] Here's to the land of the Long Leaf Pine, The Summer Land, where the sun doth shine; Where the weak grow strong, and the strong grow great— Here's to "Down Home," the Old North State! Here's to the land of the cotton blooms white, Here's to the land where the galax grows, In the "Land of the Sky," in the Old North State! Here's to the land where maidens are fairest, THE PASSING OF THE BRAVE (GENERAL J. B. GORDON, JAN. 9, 1904.) By IDA SLOCOMB MATTHEWS [This poem was read at the meeting of the Louisiana Division of the U.D.C. at Thibodaux, April 13, 1904.] Patriot, soldier, statesman, Prince of the race of men, Dust for the hand that wrought, Gloom for the eye that brightened, But of the life's high aim Gettysburg, Appomattox, Yours were the hosts they knew, Mark now the setting sun The field where it rose. Honored the steel he marshaled, Slowly the ranks pass on, Clasps them and closes. |