AN' N'.' JSAJg COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. =5 . < H >. O be A CLUSTER OF BUCKEYES By ANDREW CARLISLE CARSON DENVER THE SMITH-BROOKS CO., Publishers 1908 hyyCr 'f^£ 0C5, PREFACE. The inspiration for this friendship edition of "A Cluster of Buckeyes" came with the Colorado-Ohio Governors' banquet. The twelve poems were written in different years and in different places. The lines of "Che-le-co-the" came into my mind a little while before my Mother was translated, as I lay dreaming amid the flowers and birdsong on the grassy crest of the noble plateau — named Carlisle Place in honor of my Mother's fam- ily, who owned it, — gazing at the embowered city spread below; at the beautiful Scioto Valley, with its soft-flowing, encircling rivers, that, beyond their con- fluence, wind away like a silver thread, until lost in the blue haze of the distant hills. "Buckeyeland" was written in 1888, in honor of the Ohio Centennial. It was set to music by Professor E. S. Mattoon. "Where the WhippooTwill is Calling" preceded it by two years, after a camp on the Mohican, and I composed the music in Denver in 1907. The Colorado'-Ohio Governors' banquet was. I be- lieve, the most brilliant event of its kind ever given in Colorado by the native sons of other states. 1 quote from a published account: "The banquet of Ohioans was given in honor of Governor Buchtel and former Governor Myron T. Herrick of Ohio, who is in Colorado in the interests of the $23,000,000 pro'ject to erect immense electric plants near Glenwood Springs. 12 PREFACE. "Lieutenant-Governor E. R. Harper was the ideal toastmaster, eloquent, witty and overflowing witti enthusiasm, and the Ohio spirit was rampant through- out the evening. "About seventy native sons of Ohio were present. "The tables were beautifully adcrned with a pro- fusion of carnations, President McKinley's favorite flower, and ferns, and on the walls, artistically fes- tooned with the American colors, were portraits of General Denver and Governor Buchtel, the six Ohio presidents of the United States, William H. Harrison, Grant, Garfield, Hayes, Benjamin Harrison and Mc- Kinley, and Generals Sherman and Sheridan. "Eloquent and witty responses to toasts were made by Governor Buchtel, former Governor Herrick, Chief Justice R. W. Steele, A. C. Carson, former Governor Jesse F. McDonald, Congressman Warren A. Haggott, former Lieutenant-Go-vernor Jared L. Brush, State Printer W. A. Piatt and James Barton Adams, who read an original poem on the 'Buckeye Tree.' "A. C. Carson, chairman of the general committee of arrangements, read a historical paper on 'What Has Ohio Done for Colorado?' enumerating an almost endless list of distinguished men and notable deeds, concluding with an original poetic apostrophe to 'Buckeyeland,' in which is interwoven in the verse the names of Grant, Sherman, Sheridan and twenty- one other Ohio- generals distinguished in the War of the Rebellion. At the conclusion, all of the banquet- ers sprang to their feet, shouting and waving hand- kerchiefs and flags, in a glorious ovation to their na- tive state. PREFACE. 13 "The general committee of arrangements included Jesse F. McDonald, Paul J. Sours, H. M. Oraho'od, Ralph W. Smith, George C. Manly, F. M. Downer, James Barton Adams, E. R. Harper, Earl M. Cran- ston, H. W. Hannum, George S. Van Law, C. M. Day, A. C. Carson and Frank I. Carruthers. "Those present were: Former Governor Jesse F. McDonald, Lieutenant-Governor E. R. Harper, former Lieutenant-GovernoT Jared L. Brush, Congressman Warren A. Haggott, Congressman Herschel M. Hogg, Chief Justice R. W. Steele, Associate Justice John M. Maxwell, Postmaster Paul J. Sours, Director F. M. Downer, U. S. mint; Assistant Postmaster H. W. Hannum, President C. M. Day, of the Denver Conven- tion League; General H. M. Orahood, State Printer W. A, Piatt, Senators A. V. Bohn, E. M. De La Vergne, J. J. Harris, William Robertson, T. R. Wood; Repre- sentatives W. O. Dray, T. C. Garden, J. R. Hurd, John A. Lehrritter, Henry C. Watson, James Diltz, Tully Scott; R. H. Ashworth, city engineer, Colorado Springs; Professor Frank H. H. Roberts, Denver Uni- versity; James Barton Adams, the poet; C. K. Berlin, M. D.; Ellsworth Bethel, Dr. N. G. Burnham, F. D. Bostwick, J. D. Baldwin, Dr. F. Y. Herbert, C. S. Card, A. C. Carson, W. T. Chambers, Ralph Daniels, W. G. Dietz, J. B. Durbin, F. W. Feldwisch, Jacob Fillius, George T. Hull, W. G. Chamberlain, Jr., Dr. W. H. Hall, W. D. Hoover, Charles Kibler, David S. Lehman, George Manly, R. H. McMann, W. E. Ped- rick, W. S. Sullivan, Fred C. Shaw, C. M. Schenck, H. C. Stuchfield, C. E. Thompson, Dr. J. T. Williams, 14 PREFACE. George S. Van Law, Stuart D. Walling, W. S. Gin- nery, Charles M. Wood, James D. Hustert, Ralph Hart- zell, Edward F, Welles and F. F. Walpole." A. C. C. Denver, Colorado. June 11. 1908. CONTENTS. Page. Buckeyeland 21 Where the Whippoorwill Is Calling 25 M}^ Dog 28 'Waj' Down Caroline 31 De Debbil He Am a-Chasin" 33 Agin' Mashin' 35 The Hillican 38 Did Y' Ever? 40 Uncle Jed on the "Flyin' Masheen" 42 An October Idji 45 The Immortality of Song 47 Che-le-co-the 49 ILLUSTRATIONS. By the Author. Buckeye Leaves, Flower, Capsules and ^ Nuts Cover Design A Cluster of Buckeyes Frontispiece Colorado-Ohio Governors' Banquet 10' The Ohio Buckeye 24 ' Waiting for Me 11^ Honeylocust Blossoms 48^ Great Seal of the State of Ohio 51/ COLORADO WILD FLOWERS. Indian Paint Brush, Castilleia 23 Evening Primrose, Oenothera 26 Cone Flower, Lepachys coliimnaris 29 Iris, or Fleur-de-lis 30 Cactus, Opuntia Rafinesquii 32 '-^ Milkweed, Asclepias speciosa 34/ Thelesperma gracile 36' Yucca angustifolia 37 Prickly Poppy, Argemone platyceras 39 Seed Pod, Spanish Bayonet 41 Wild sunflower, HeUanthus annuus 43 Colorado Manroot 44 WMld Clematis 46 Bush Morning-glory, Ipomaa leptophylla 47 Columbine, Aquilegia cwrulea (Colorado State Flower) 50 A Cluster of Buckeyes BUCKEYELAND.* Hail to Ohio, our dear Buckeyeland! Gem of the Union, proud, peerless and grand; First of thy sisterhood, Queen of the West, Mother of Presidents, thy name is blest! Matchless thy jewels shine, dear Motherland; Countless their numbers are, lo! as the sand; These are thy gallant sons, noble and true: Hark! to their song as they pass in review — Chorus — "Buckeyeland, Buckeyeland, Buckeyeland! Fair is thy history, Bright is thy destiny. Strong is our love for thee. Dear Buckeyeland." Who is yon silent chief, sturdy and bold, Leading the column, a hero in mold? — Earth's greatest general — knowest his name? E'er where the sun doth shine, there shines his fame. Earth hath her heroes of fadeless renown; Fame hath her chaplets wove their brows to crown; Yet among chieftains chief, Grant stands alone: Sons of Ohio, his glory's thine own! Chorus — Buckeyeland. 22 BUCKETELAND. Hark to the tread of the oncoming host! Soldiers and statesmen they, each with his boast, Each with his laurels won, in peace or war, Some with a plumed crest, some with a scar; Sherman and Sheridan, who ne'er forsook Their country in peril; McPherson, McCooks;:i; Rosecrans, Mitchell, stalwart and strong; McDowell, McClellan, all shouting the song. Chorus — Buckeyeland. Still comes the valiant throng, numbers untold; Buell and Gillmore and Custer, the Bold; Schenck, Hazen, Steedman — God bless the brave Who faced every danger their country to save! And who are these touching elbows to right? — Three hundred thousand who went out to fight, And built with their bodies a bulwark and wall- Battle-scarred heroes, thy sons are they all, Chorus — Buckeyeland. Onward, still on they come — will they ne'er cease? Lo! these are thy statesmen, distinguished in peace. Or, guiding the nation 'mid war's wild alarm, They breasted the tempest and outrode the storm: Soldier and president. Garfield and Hayes ;r Statesman and counsellor. Stanton and Chase; Or brave-hearted Wade, strong in hope's darkest days — All call thee "Mother," and .ioin in thy praise, Chorus — Buckeyeland. BUCKETELAND. 23 But can'st thou number the red autumn leaves? Or reckon the beams which the sun daily weaves' Then count Ohio's sons lustrous with fame, And loud to the millions each hero proclaim. Then hall to Ohio, our dear Buckeyeland! Gem of the Union, proud, peerless and grand! First of thy sisterhood. Queen of the West. Mother of Presidents, thy name is blest. Chort- Buckeyeland. *Read by the author at the Colorado-Ohio Governors' Banquet at the Hotel Savoy, Denver, Colorado, Tuesday evening, March 5, 1907. tPresidents William H. Harrison, Ben.iamin Harrison and William McKinley, and many brave generals, should have place in this illustrious galaxy, but it is impossible to include them all. tThe world's greatest family of fighters— two brothers and their fifteen sons, including seven generals, one colonel, one commander U. S. Navy, two chaplains, one surgeon, one major of cavalry, and only one private. /-./' '^/f II * «J ^K^B THE OHIO BUCKEYE. Pavia Ohioensis (Michaux). ^sculus Glabra (Webster). WHERE THE WHIPPOORWILL IS CALLING. Waltz Song. We are camping here to-night by the old Mohican shore. We are camping 'neath the mellow orchard shade, While our hammocks 'mid the trees Swing in measure with the breeze, And the ruddy fire is gleaming on the glade. Tranquil is the hour when the summer sun is low; Happy is the close of leisure's day; Sweetly on the air Float the voices free from care, As we gaily swing the joyous hours away. Chorus. Swinging high and swinging low, Swinging 'mid the trees; Swinging fast and swinging slow. In measure with the breeze; Up and down and to and fro, All so free from care, Singing, singing as we go Floating thro' the air. We are boating here to-night on the old Mohican tide. We are boating on the fair and gentle stream. While the moon is shining bright, Pouring glory o'er the night. And the silver-crested wavelets brightly gleam. 26 WHERE THE WHIPPOORWILL IS CALLING. Blissful is the hour when the radiant moon is high, And the whippoorwill is calling on the shore; Idly glides the boat As we hear its plaintive note. And we'd fain the hour might linger evermore. Chorus. Rocking, rocking as we go, Rocking in the boat; Rocking, rocking fast and slow, As we idly float; Up and down and to and fro. Floating in the light, Singing, singing as we go Drifting thro" the night. WAITING FOR ME. MY DOG. I stood by a wall of cold gray stone, Riveted fast by a piteous moan, That from a gateway, barred and low, Stabbed my heart as it floated through. "It is only a dog," the keeper said. As he drove away with a load of dead; "Only a dog condemned to die, "And he'll never know the reason why." I peered thro' the bars into two big eyes, Lifted to mine so soulful and wise That I caught him up and bore him away, As I paid for his life on his judgment day. It was "but a dog," that's what they say. And perhaps e'en you may think that way; But the staunchest friend I've ever known Was the one I found in that house of stone. I have known what 'tis to find men untrue; I have known friends to change for a dollar or two; To deceive and betray, to wound and defraud, False to their brothers, their country, their God: But in all the brief years of my quadruped friend, Down to the dusk of his beautiful end, Meeting the trials of life by my side. He was true as the stars, and true till he died. * * * * MT DOG. 29 And when I shall reach the Lethean shore, And Charon is waiting to ferry me o'er; When I've crossed the dark tide of the fathomless sea, I am sure I'll find him there waiting for me! [The author desires to acknowledge that these lines were inspired by Senator Vest's speech on the dog, and a newspaper poem published some years ago.] 'WAY DOWN CAROLINE. 'Way down Souf in Caroline, Dat's whar dey mix de sunshine Wif de "moonshine;" Dat's wot makes yo' feel so fine, Dat's wot makes de black face shine, 'Way down Caroline. Down on sof side cotton bale, Dar's whar dey drinks de sunshine Wif de "moonshine:" Pickaninny in shirt-tail Sing jes' like de martingale, 'Way down Caroline. Down on de sof side cotton bale, Dar's whar dey drinks de sunshine Wif de "moonshine." "Moonshine" am dat hot ole stuff — Oh, ma Lawdy! nebber did get 'nuff, 'Way down Caroline. Down on sof side cotton bale. Soak yo' hide wif sunshine an' Wif "moonshine:" Fat ole 'possum a-hangin' by he's tail (Oh, ma Lawd!) — Banjo, cum doion off'n dat nail! — 'Way down Caroline. DE DEBBIL HE AM A-CHASIN' Ma soul be up an' a-flyin' Befo' de day hab a-cum, I's a-gwine right up into Heaben Befo' I see dat sun. De white folks and de cullud Am a-fiockin' troo de a'r, De Die ark am all a-loaded — Hallelujah! I'll be dar. Chorus. Oh, let dat ole ho'n keep on a-tootin' Let dem a-dead-a-bones fly; Oh, set dem a-heavenly ma-bells all a-ringin', Dar is music in de sky. Hark! dem bells! Hark! dem bells! Be-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ells (EchD). Bells, bells, bells! I hyar dat ole ho'n a-tootin' Ez ef 'twould sholy bust; Dem dead bones dey cum a-scootin' To see who'll git dar fust: De Debbil he am a-chasin' To cotch dat hindernmost — Yo' nebber seed sich a-racin' To 'scape dat fiery roast. Chorus. ( .^ \l y AGIN MASHIN'. [In the Ohio Valley vernacular.] It's a homespun old-like story uv the spider an' th' fly, But It alius seems so flttin' jes w'en winter hez passed by — W'en th' frozen days skedaddle with the ice an' snow an' rime, An' th' yaller sun is smilin' at th' reserection time. With th' spooney days o' spring time, w'en th' fever's in th' veins, Sassy Love he cums a-perchin' o' th' top o' giddy brains; An' he makes 'em all delir'us-like, an' he he'ts up ev'ry part, W'en he pours his red-hot lava in th' blood that feeds th' hart. Them's th' days, ez I hev noticed, ez I pass't along th' street, W'en them city chaps an' loafers, dress't fer style an' lookin' neat, Cums like spiders in the sunshine, on th' corners hangin' 'roun', Weavin' webs fer purty wimmin — fer no good, ez I'll be boun'. 36 AGIN MASHIN\ 'Pears to me ez ef them fellers wot we send to make th' laws Or to legislate agin sich mashin', while they're on the mashin' cause. Wimmin's wimmin — allers will be caught like flies; But we'd orto mash them spiders — jes' ter kinder equalize! [Published originally in the New York World.] X V. % THE "HILLICAN. I come from Waller P. O., onst known as Massey- ville, Down to'ards ole Pike kyounty, beyant the Lunbeck mill: Thet's in Hooppole township an' near to Pawpaw- ridge, Whar they list ter get th' timber ter build most ev'ry bridge. Waller's in a holler, sev'n mile from Chilly-ma-clink,* Whar th' Nor'west did its tradin' an' th' State House wuz, I think; Ez to thet, I disremember, fer I lived out on Pee-pee, W'en my pap fust cum from Buckskin an' Raggedy ridge, yer see. Down among th' shoemake whar th' big blackberries grows, An' th' cat-tails, used fer bar'ls. ez ev'rybody knows; Whar th' hick'ry fit fer hooppoles kivers all th' hills aroun' : Thet's jest th' place I cum from — my ole stampin' groiin'. You kin call me Jay, Clay-eater, Hillican or Yap, But I'd ruther tromp the footsteps uv my ole long- legged pap, THE ''HILLICANr' Cuttin' jes' eniiff uv hooppoles, huntin', fishin', ez 1 like, Than ter be th' biggest farmer thet lives along th' pike. *A sobriquet for Chillicothe. Ohio. The names used above are still in force in Ross county, the birthplace of the late L.ucy Webb Hayes and the resting-place of four Ohio Governors. The leaves of the cat's-tail. "typha hitifolio." are placed between the staves to make barrels walei-tisht. I First j)ublished in the Chicago .Journal.] DID Y' EVER?^ Did y' ever run barefoot in the good ole summertime, Wen th' sun wuz hangin' up above ez high ez he c'u'd climb, An' til' swet cum out a-drippin' from a million little doors, An' y' felt ez ef y'd melt all up an' run out at th' pores ? Did y' ever go fishin' down at th' sunfish hole An' yank the "chubs" and "rockies" with a little min- ner pole? Er lie a-dreamin" by the hour out on a big ole log; Then strip and dive in under it — jes' like an ole bull- frog? Did y' ever go in swimmin' an' float roun' on yer back, An' fergit ter put yer shirt on tell th' sun had tanned y' black? Did y' ever paddle in the dust an' pile it up in rows, Er feel how good it alius wuz ter sqush it twixt yer toes? Ef y' never run barefoot y' missed an awful site, An' ev'ry country boy'll swear I'm talkin' mighty right! *In memory of "The Farm," at Silvey Ford, near Chillicothe. Ohio. UNCLE JED ON THE "FLYIN' MASHEEN." I'll jes' sing ye a song uv th' days uv my youth, Fer I'm a "back number," they say; An' I think they hev hit it, an' onst told the truth; Oh, I'm a "back number," they say. Them new-fangled air-ships is so dizzy an' fas', My hair stan's on eend and my face is aghas'; Landlubber, clodhopper, I'll be flyin' at las', — An' I'm a "back number," they say. When I wuz a laddie th' ox-team w'd do Fer a common "back number" like me; Whoa, haivl an' Gee. Buck! an' I gadded 'em, too, Ole fogy, "back number." yer see. I hoed the pertaters an' plowed th' corn through; I harried an' furried, an' cradled wheat, too. I'm a pretty ole bird, but I'll see 'em right through, Tho' I'm a "back nunil)ei-." they say. My Martha I wedded w'en young. i)lumi) an' fair. Oh, I'm a "back number." they say; An' folks alius called us a good-lookin' pair, Tho' now we're "back numl)ers," they say. We lived on th' farm whar the meader lark sung. An' th' pii)i)ins turned gold on th" limbs whar they hung. An' th' cows bawled at sundown wen th' milk pails wuz brung: But now we're "back numbers." they say. UNCLE JED ON THE "FLTIN' MASHEEN.'' 43 An' ter think iiv me flyin' like a hawk on th' wing- Stiff-j'inted "back number" like me! Who'd ever believed sech an' outlandish thing Fer sech a "back number" ez me? It seems like presumin' fer men made uv clay Ter tackle a trip up to Heaven that way: But I'd better keep mum er th' rest'll all say, "Ole fogy, hack number is he!" I Published in the New York Sun.] AN OCTOBER IDYL.* 1 was sitting by my window on a mild October night, Watching the protean shadows play in the moon's white light; The elm-tree measured the streetway and figured a stately pine; Tall and slender it lengthened 'till it met yon fence's line: Lying so still in the roadway, darkly outlined on the white, It looked like a poet's wild fancy, and woke to poetic flight: "Turning life's prcvblem, thinking, thinking. While the blue-set stars are winking And the world to rest is sinking, I sit alone — alone with the open tome Of the past, and the present roam To peer in the great beyond : A night that has never dawned." All alone I sat and pondered, And abroad my spirit wandered In fancy's flight. But hark! a sound like guns an hundred; The building quaked; the front door thundered; The door-bell rang; my verse was sundered; A laugh, a shout — no more I wondered: 'Twas "Cabbage Night." *The first two stanzas were written in the house where I^ucy Webb Hayes was born. The poem was first pub- lished in The Mt. Vernon (O.) Republican. -d THE IMMORTALITY OF SONG. Oh, who can tell the worth of song — The swelling melody of glee! The trilling notes, now swift they throng; Now deepest pathos sweeps along; Now love; now praise: the echoes flee And dying replications cease. But no! they wing their endless flight Thro' outward space with slight decrease. Nor e'er shall Time accord them peace! Far less, within the mind, delight And sweet remembrance quickly fade. Unbound Eternity shall hear That harmony which kissed the tear, And crowned the cup of mortal cheer. And smoothed the path that sin has made! I First i)ub]ished in The Ross County (O.) Register.] CHE-LE-CO-THE.* Unrhymed Regret. O Town of the Plain, 'mid everlasting hills, The earl}' leaves bedeck thee, the locust bloom doth scent thee, And yet in all around me change I see. O town of childhood's thoughtless joy, O town of youthful dream and hope. Thy hills remain— but little more, in sooth. Reminders of the day I did delight in thee! On yonder verdant crest fair Phyllis dwelt In years long lost, when love was young: And on yon upland high, deep writ in monument of earth, My tribal name endures. And yo-nder far will Logan rear his sha.ggy head. And o'er the valley still his silent vigil keep When we are long forgot and numbered with the dead. O vale of fair Scioto's stream, In other years thy slopes and dells I trod Till all were mine; But now, tho' still art fair, thou art a dream. * * * * And so methinks I'll lie and close my eyes. And fancy all of life a dream ! *The old Indian name of the first capital of the North- west Territory, that, later, became the first capital of the State of Ohio. Founded in 1796— two years before the author's maternal grandparents settled there. GREAT SEAI> OF THE STATE OF OHIO. Mt, I.ogan in the Background, the Scioto Flowing- along its Base, and Poe's Wheat Field in the Foreground. 3#t- 015 906 164 4