Oh men, with the souls undaunted, Hark, now the muffled beat For not with the sword surrendered, Stirred by no banner's flare, The fireside's pallid embers What though the storm obscures? Great in the glare of warfare, You forged from your fetters-freedom, Strong where hope onward led, Stronger where hope lay dead, Battling, you conquered. Through the hush of centuries dawning, From the dusk of centuries dead, Do prophecies nobler quicken, Are holier memories shed? Shafts graven for your ken, For we of the South remember, Murmured 'twixt earth and sky, Hail and farewell! IN KENTUCKY By JAMES HILARY MULLIGAN [The author of this widely parodied poem was born in Lexington, Kentucky, November 21, 1844. "In Kentucky" was first read at a banquet held in the Phoenix Hotel, at Lexington, on the evening of February 11, 1902.] The moonlight falls the softest In Kentucky; The summer days come oftest Friendship is the strongest, Life's burdens bear the lightest, The home fires burn the brightest While players are the keenest The sun shines ever brightest The breezes whisper lightest The bluegrass waves the bluest Yet, bluebloods are the fewest? Moonshine is the clearest, The dove-notes are the saddest The streams dance on the gladdest Hip pockets are the thickest, Pistol hands the slickest, The cylinder turns quickest, In Kentucky. The song birds are the sweetest The thoroughbreds are fleetest Mountains tower proudest, Thunder peals the loudest, The landscape is the grandest-- In Kentucky. LAST INTERVIEW BETWEEN HECTOR By WILLIAM MUNFORD [The author was born in Virginia in 1775, studied at William and Mary College, entered politics, but found time to complete his version of the 'Iliad' a few months before his death in 1825. It was not published till 1846. The following extract is from the sixth book.] This said, illustrious Hector stretch'd his arms To take his child; but to the nurse's breast His father's awful aspect, fearing too The brazen helm, and crest with horse-hair crown'd, To Pluto's hall, before the appointed time; Base or e'en brave, has ever shunn'd his fate; THE MARTIN'S SONG By WILL D. MUSE [Uncle Remus's-The Home Magazine, August, 1908.] Dear Heart, to-day, somewhere I heard a mating martin sing, There seemed to flood within my soul love songs of long ago. He did not linger in his flight to rest nor yet to sing, Sweet Summer days and glorious nights, when hearts beat fast and true; When down the primrose path of Life I wandered, Love, with you; But now the days of youth are dead-the path of Life is long; And only memories of all come with the martin's song. THE BARDS By JOHN W. OVERALL ['The Louisiana Book', 1894.] In their high heroic measure, |