An' as we hev no substitoot, as Brother Moore ain' here, Will some 'un in the congregation be so kind's to volunteer?" An' then a red-nosed, drunken tramp of low-toned rowdy style Give an interductory hiccup, an' then staggered up the aisle; Then thro' thet holy atmosphere there crep' a sense er sin, An' thro' thet air of sanctity the odor uv ol' gin. Then Deacon Purington he yelled, his teeth all sot on edge: "This man purfanes the house of God! W'y, this is sacrilege! The tramp didn' hear a word he said, but slouched 'ith stumblin' feet, An' sprawled an' staggered up the steps, an' gained the organ seat. He then went pawin' through the keys, an' soon there rose a strain Thet seemed to jest bulge out the heart, an' 'lectrify the brain; An' then he slapped down on the thing 'ith hands an' head an' knees, He slam-dashed his hull body down 'kerflop upon the keys. The organ roared, the music flood went sweepin' high and dry, It swelled into the rafters and bulged out into the sky. The ol' church shook an' staggered, an' seemed to reel an' sway, An' the elder shouted "Glory!" an' I yelled out "Hooray!" An' then he tried a tender strain that melted in our ears, Thet brought up blessed memories an' drenched 'em down 'ith tears; An' we dreamed of ol' time kitchens, 'ith Tabby on the mat, Uv home an' luv an' baby days, an' mother an' all that! An' then he struck a streak uv hope-a song from souls forgiven Thet burst from prison bars uv sin, an' stormed the gates of heaven; The mornin' stars they sung together no soul was We felt the universe wuz safe, an' God wuz on his throne! An' then a wail uv deep despair an' darkness come again, An' long black crape hung on the doors uv all the homes uv men; No luv, no light, no joy, no hope, no songs uv glad delight, An' then the tramp he staggered down an' reeled into the night! POETICAL FAVORITES But we knew he'd tol' his story, tho' he never spoke a word An' it wuz the saddest story thet our ears had ever heard! He hed tol' his own life history, an' no eye wuz dry thet day, W'en the elder rose and simply said: "My brethren, let us pray." MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home; 'Tis summer, the darkeys are gay; The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day; The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy and bright; By'n'-by hard times comes a-knocking at the door,- They hunt no more for the possum and the coon The day goes by, like a shadow o'er the heart, The time has come when the darkeys have to part, Then my old Kentucky home, good-night! The head must bow, and the back will have to bend, A few more days, and the troubles all will end, A few more days to tote the weary load, A few more days till we totter on the road, Then, my old Kentucky home, good-night! Weep no more my lady; O, weep no more to-day! We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For our old Kentucky home far away. PALMETTO AND PINE BY L. VIRGINIA FRENCH After reading the debate on amnesty in the United States Congress, an accomplished Tennessee lady, Mrs. L. Virginia French, wrote this poem for the Nashville American. It is an impassioned plea for peace, and more than peace, for affectionate brotherhood and the revival of friendly memories older than the late civil strife. They planted them together our gallant sires of old Though one was crowned with crystal snow, and one with solar gold; They planted them together on the world's majestic height, At Saratoga's deathless charge, at Eutaw's stubborn fight. At midnight on the dark redoubt, 'mid plunging shot At noontide gasping in the crush of battle's bloody swell With gory hands and reeking brows, amid the mighty fray, Which surged and swelled around them on that memorable day, When they planted Independence, as a symbol and a sign, They struck deep soil and planted the Palmetto and the Pine! They planted them together-by the river of the Years Watered with our fathers' hearts' blood, watered with our mothers' tears; In the strong, rich soil of Freedom, with a bounteous benison From their Prophet, Priest, and Pioneer - our Father, Washington! Above them floated echoes of the ruin and the wreck, Like drums that beat at Louisburg and thundered at Quebec;" But the old lights sank in darkness as the new stars rose to shine O'er those emblems of the sections - the Palmetto and the Pine. |