Scraps of Song and Southern Scenes: A Collection of Humorous and Pathetic Poems and Descriptive Sketches of Plantation Life in the Backwoods of Georgia

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C. P. Byrd, 1889 - History - 199 pages
 

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Page 7 - Sabastia's waters lave The marshes stretching toward the main. Landward a waste of barren plain. So grim, so gray, and old, it seems A realm of half-remembered dreams. Where rose her walls there's scarce a clod Aspires above the levelled sod; Where trails and clambers, wild and free, The fragrant rose of Cherokee, And clumps of stunted cedars grow ; Gnarled willows in the moat below Whose depth now measures scarce a span, Shallow as vaunt of boasting man! Twin shafts of crumbling brick and stone,...
Page 133 - And if I should live to be The last leaf on the tree In the spring; Let them smile as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling.
Page 9 - Valor paid to Beauty's grace On bended knee the homage due From loyal knight to lady true. Above yon rugged arch I trace Lines that all time can ne'er efface, — Deep graven in the dark gray stone The royal seal of Arragon ! And just below the graver wrote A name that like a bugle-note Stirred many a heart, nerved many a hand, The kingly name of Ferdinand ! Deserted now each vaulted room And voiceless is the donjon's gloom; My footsteps in the lonely keep Disturb the hermit echoes
Page 8 - ... thunderous cannon rolled, And storms of martial music told That Spain's broad banner still unfurled Its conquering folds o'er half the world ! The mitred abbot chanted here The glad Te Deum loud and clear, And St. lago's name was praised While trumpets rang and bonfires blazed. Within this court-yard's ample space Proud Valor paid to Beauty's grace, On bended knee, the homage due From loyal knight to lady true. Above yon rugged arch I trace Lines that all time can ne'er efface,— Deep graven...
Page 9 - ... Ferdinand ! Deserted now each vaulted room And voiceless is the donjon's gloom; My footsteps in the lonely keep Disturb the hermit echoes' sleep. Th' "Alerta!" of the sentinel Is heard no more; the castle bell Is hushed ; and 'neath the turret's crest A brooding screech owl builds her nest. Within that tower I sit and gaze To'ard the dull bank of purple haze Where earth and sky and ocean meet, And wild Atlantic billows beat Upon the bar, where ghastly white The sand dunes glisten in the light,...
Page 3 - Southern Literature." Vol. II, p. 845. 2. "Southern Literature," Vol. II, p. 849. says : "Should these little emanations of my intellect meet with favor in the eyes of those for whose pleasure they are written, and should they touch a responsive chord in the hearts of those among whom my life has been passed, and to whom every sympathy of my soul goes out in fond endearment, then shall I feel that I have not written in vain of the melody and memory of my old plantation home.
Page 8 - ... cadence, rise and fall. With awe and reverence strong and deep, I mount that castellated steep, Beneath whose portals, roughly arched, The mail-clad Spaniard proudly marched, While boom of thunderous cannon rolled, And storms of martial music told That Spain's broad banner still unfurled Its conquering folds o'er half the world ! The mitred abbot chanted here The glad Te Deum loud and clear, And St. lago's name was praised While trumpets rang and bonfires blazed. Within this court-yard's ample...
Page 47 - When purpling shadows westward creep, And stars through crimson curtains peep, And south winds sing themselves to sleep ; From woodlands heavy with perfume Of spicy bud and April bloom, Comes through the tender twilight gloom, Music most mellow, " Whip po' Will— Will oh ! Whip po' Will— Will, oh ! Whip po' Will, Whip po' Will, Whip po

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