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THE ETERNAL I 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 POEMS 
 
 Edward Jordy Graham 
 
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 COPYRIGHT, 1919 
 
 BY 
 
 ELEANOR G. GRAHAM 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, LA. 
 
 OCT 31 I'Ji'd 
 
 ©CU535545 
 
EDWARD JORDY GRAHAM, THE MAN. 
 
 This little volume seems to assemble those 
 traits of character which made up the inter- 
 esting and attractive personality of Edward 
 Jordy Graham. Artist and musician, it is not sur- 
 prising that he expressed the thoughts of his 
 versatile mind rythmically. A thinker, deeply 
 religious, building soul mansions each more 
 stately than the last as his knowledge of the In- 
 finite grew. Believing in, daily demonstrating and 
 helping others to demonstrate the brotherhood of 
 man. In the poems of Ideality his wonderful 
 imagination has full sway. In the poems of 
 Remembrance, the love and devotion he felt to- 
 wards those with whom he came in intimate con- 
 tact is clearly evinced. Of refreshing and enter- 
 taining wit, untainted by sarcasm, we find him 
 writing in humorous vein. Born and reared in 
 the ''Southland" attended by a black mammy, it 
 is natural that we should find among his poems 
 those in dialect, which tell something of the man- 
 nerisms of the Southern negro, even while seem- 
 ing to be fun-making at the expense of the 
 modern projects which he himself espoused. 
 
 It was my great privilege to have been num- 
 bered among those who knew and loved him best. 
 Julia Powell Brisbane. 
 
IIMi 
 
 ^i 
 
 
 
 p 
 
 « 
 
THE ETERNAL I. 
 
 Each in our turn must unresponsive lie, 
 
 Though friends and kindred stand with aching 
 hearts, 
 Not knowing that the real, the deathless I 
 
 Has found the life which death alone imparts; 
 And thus they grieve. 
 Not knowing that the I has gladly laid 
 Aside the garment, useful for a span 
 To manifest the I Divine : arrayed 
 
 Briefly in human form to learn the Man, 
 And man retrieve. 
 
 It is not ours to cloud the heart with gloom, 
 
 To hold enfettered by a selfish love 
 The clay freed soul : or fear in death a doom ; 
 
 When Death alone, Divinity doth prove. 
 With I divine. 
 For know in all the seons that have gone. 
 
 Through space of time unmeasured by an end 
 The I in coexistence met the dawn, 
 
 And ever living, endless Time will tend. 
 Why then repine? 
 
 Rather rejoice, to see the Ego freed. 
 
 To know the I is making destiny. 
 To know that each transition is its meed 
 
 Of progress to a free Eternity 
 Forevermore. 
 Search for the Truth within. It is thy power. 
 
 The I in all, is as the I in thee. 
 And do not weep, that Life should claim its hour 
 
 Between the deaths that for a time must be. 
 Then nevermore. 
 
 Inspired by Emily C, February 29, 1912. 
 
THE SILENCE. 
 
 Into the Silence! Then be still. 
 
 Wait, and the Silence will surely speak. 
 Wait in the Silence, and have thy will ; 
 
 All that thou seeketh or e'er did'st seek. 
 
 Into the Silence take but Faith, 
 
 Faith in Love, and its wondrous power; 
 
 Faith in the wisdom of Truth which sayeth, 
 Seek ye the Silence ! Find thy dower. 
 
 Into the Silence ! Find thy Soul 
 
 Waiting the call that doth mean. Awake ! 
 
 Glad in its freedom to grant as toll 
 All that thy courage of will, will take. 
 
 Into the Silence, patient wait : 
 
 Ages of error must be undone. 
 Ages of Truth may be thine to state, 
 
 E'er thou can'st think that thy guerdon's won. 
 
 Into the Silence! Sacred right 
 
 Thine, when all the weakness of doubt has gone, 
 There thou wilt find as the Truth of Light, 
 
 Thou, and Thy Forces, and God are One. 
 
 Written after the perusal of Floyd B. Wilson's 
 classic, "Paths to Power," hence dedicated to that 
 noble writer. 
 
DEVACHAN. 
 (Paradise.) 
 
 Beyond the Veil, dear, thou wilt find me waiting. 
 
 Life incomplete without thee, there or here. 
 Tho' there, there be no marriage there'll be mating 
 
 Of souls attuned. There must be! Have no fear 
 But that again when we have passed the portal 
 
 Which bars from mortal ken that mystic land 
 We'll meet, and with a vision cleared, immortal, 
 
 Awake the fuller, better understand 
 That Death is but the gateway to completing 
 
 Existence, crudely here exemplified. 
 Thou'lt find me waiting, glad to give thee greeting 
 
 If first I pass unto the other side. 
 And if it be that thou should'st hence precede me 
 
 I know that thy fair soul wilt wait for mine 
 Unwilling, tho' transcendent glories lead thee, 
 
 To halve the Unit fixed in God's design. 
 When souls were twinned in unrecorded ages 
 
 And under rule of Law have so evolved 
 Conning with patient thought the wondrous pages 
 
 Which held the future. By the past absolved 
 We have attained : and have in the attaining 
 
 Passed through each portal that the Cosmos 
 holds 
 Through mists of seons gone we have been gaining 
 
 What rock, plant, animal and man unfolds ; 
 By paths converged, but ever drawing nearer 
 
 Have reached the plane whereon with equal feet 
 We stand, and know each to the other dearer 
 
 In that beyond the veil as one we meet. 
 So as the height of mortal life is gilding. 
 
 With the bright dawn of that which is to be. 
 And as the Spirit, ever upward building. 
 
 Hath by the law enshrined in thee and me. 
 So when we cast our outgrown shells behind us 
 
 And either fly first forth into the dawn 
 The law that either frees must ever find us 
 
 Halved, that one spirit only hath been born. 
 So thus a moment yet, a brief delaying 
 
 An instant's pause, edging eternity 
 Then self seeks self, completion's law obeying, 
 
 And filling out the Units' Destiny. 
 So be it ! Thou or I may pierce the shadow 
 
 Yet Thou nor I can find the guerdon won 
 Alone. But once we twain are reunited 
 
 All will be well, and all to be, be done. 
 
THE CYCLE. 
 
 Thou of no use? weary one 
 
 Be not thus faint of heart, 
 For know, that in this Universe 
 
 E'en the minutest part 
 Is of a most important use 
 
 In the Eternal plan 
 That needs each mite to form the Whole, 
 
 From amoeba to Man. 
 
 Thou of no use? doubting one 
 
 Think on the vibrant Whole 
 And pause. Thou shalt not desecrate 
 
 Thy sacredness of soul. 
 Think what thou wast, know what thou art. 
 
 With none more needful than 
 Thyself, the cycle to complete 
 
 From amoeba to Man. 
 
 Thou of no use ? faithless one 
 
 Facing the glorious goal. 
 Know all the Truth, claim all thy own. 
 
 For Knowledge grants thee toll. 
 And evil is not thine to state. 
 
 Nor thine to hold the ban 
 That keeps in bondage every force 
 
 From amoeba to Man. 
 
 Thou of no use? waking one 
 
 Rise in thy godlike might, 
 And neath the shield of Confidence 
 
 Drive fear and doubt to flight. 
 Be firm each moment, *'know thyself," 
 
 Know that *'I will,'' "I can" 
 Attain ; for all is limitless 
 
 From amoeba to Man. 
 
 10 
 
BROTHERHOOD. 
 
 Awake, and claim thy birthright now. 
 
 Thy consciousness attained, 
 The tjniverse itself is thine, 
 
 The vigil almost done. 
 The ages that have kept thee bound 
 
 To watch and wait and pray. 
 Are passing, and beyond there waits 
 
 The wonders of new day. 
 
 Awake, and mark the golden glow 
 
 Across life's endless sky; 
 Awake, and know the harvest sown 
 
 In past eternity 
 Is ready for the reaping now, 
 
 So forward with the van. 
 And garner from the fields of space 
 
 The Brotherhood of Man. 
 
 XI 
 

 I 
 
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 I 
 
 THATa FOR 
 
TO MOTHER. 
 
 As Father Time paints in the years, 
 That makes the picture we call Life; 
 
 From the soft tints of babyhood, 
 To broader, stronger tones of youth ; 
 We find the picture fair, forsooth. 
 
 We find the painting truly good. 
 
 But as he works to middle ground. 
 Lays in the rich but harsher tones 
 
 That limns the lines that adds more years, 
 Intent we gaze and criticize, 
 With vision less acute, less wise. 
 
 With vision dimmed by sometime tears. 
 
 And last tho', with the Master's touch. 
 The foreground gleams with silvery age 
 
 And violet hues of peace, well caught 
 Keflection from the baby skies. 
 Then, mute with wondering surprise. 
 
 We know how well the painter wrought. 
 March 14, 1908. 
 
 15 
 
THE GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY. 
 
 Midas, I need thy golden touch, 
 
 Thy wondrous gift unheralized, 
 To turn to gold each word, each thought, 
 
 That retrospection holds emprized. 
 
 Fain would I turn to gold each lyre 
 That sings of half a hundred years, 
 
 Of human life spent side by side. 
 Warmed by Life's sun which dries Life's tears. 
 
 Fain would I paint the aureate tints 
 
 In strong relief against the grey. 
 Those Mem'ries sweet whose finger prints, 
 
 Mark Life's book through to this wedding day. 
 
 June 20, 1911. 
 
 16 
 
TO "THAT OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE." 
 
 Come, Dear One ! Listen yet again 
 
 To music of the long ago ; 
 To song that echoing adown the years 
 
 Impels the blood to quicker flow, 
 And brings to mind the happy days 
 
 When Youth and Love went hand in hand, 
 And hearts were light, and rainbow rays 
 
 Of hope embrightened all the land. 
 
 Come, Dear One ! Lay thy hand in mine 
 
 And let me tell thee once again 
 The love I gave thee in those days 
 
 Has aye been my heart's best refrain. 
 And know that no discordant note 
 
 Ha splayed across the strings of love 
 To mar the gentle symphony 
 
 On which our hearts have jointly throve. 
 
 Come, Dear One ! Lay your cheek on mine, 
 
 As in the past I'd have you do 
 When pain or pleasure filled your heart 
 
 And weal or woe had come to you. 
 Believe me, time has wrought no change ; 
 
 My joy is still your happiness 
 And still my tears can meet your own. 
 
 When Fate brings to your life distress. 
 
 Come, Dear One ! Rest your heart on mine. 
 
 And as we view the years gone by 
 Be glad that we were mated well 
 
 And love yet lives for you and I; 
 E'en till the stars of heaven are dead 
 
 And e'en until the sun grows cold 
 And Time has joined Eternity, 
 
 Love for we twain, cannot grow old. 
 
 17 
 
THE FRIEND WHO WALKED WITH ME. 
 (To S. D. G.) 
 
 How simple deed and kindly thought, 
 Impelling share in others' woe, 
 
 May help our blinded eyes to see ; 
 
 May help our breaking hearts to know 
 
 All things are well ,whate'er they be, 
 
 Came with the friend who walked with me. 
 
 Nor then, nor now, I doubt that he, 
 Surmiseth half the priceless boon 
 
 He offered, when he left his path. 
 And at my side took up his own : 
 
 And counselled hope ; tho' none might be. 
 
 But that he turned and walked with me. 
 
 Dark, dark my heart that sunlit day ; 
 
 Deep, th' impenetrable gloom 
 That pall-like hung o'er all my way. 
 
 And crushed me with the might of doom. 
 The heedless world passed on : but he 
 Passed not, but turned and walked with me. 
 
 Paused on his busy hurrying way ; 
 
 Dipped deep into Hope's bubbling spring; 
 Proffered my soul the soothing draught 
 
 Which took the barb from sorrow's sting. 
 Thus for sweet friendship's sake did he ; 
 The friend who turned and walked with me. 
 
 Words are but words ! It is the deed 
 That gives the purpose of the heart, 
 
 The gift of self, that toucheth deep 
 The grieving soul, which stands apart. 
 
 Alone, in all the world. And he 
 
 Knew this, and turned and walked with me. 
 
 Friend as 'twas thine to share with me 
 A burthen greater than my strength, 
 
 I know in archives out beyond 
 
 Our ken, thy deed's inscribed at length 
 
 And if thy need should come, that he 
 
 Who wrote, will turn and walk with thee. 
 
 18 
 
ETERNAL YOUTH. 
 
 (To N.— On Her Birthday.) 
 
 Another cycle ! So the spiral grows 
 Which leads thee ever upward to the Light, 
 
 Another year gone by 
 
 Blessing thy destiny 
 With life grown fuller for each yearly flight. 
 
 Another year? Nay, what are years to thee 
 When at thine own hands lies thy destiny? 
 
 These atoms of Time's flight 
 
 But make for greater might 
 In winning to thyself Eternity. 
 
 Another day, and the full year has gone ; 
 Another, and a year has come again. 
 
 Yet, if between each sun 
 
 Some higher thought is won. 
 The days, for thee, go not nor come in vain. 
 
 Another hour! Yet nucleii of the days. 
 These minute fragments build the arch of Time ; 
 
 Each fitted to the whole 
 
 For thee, as grows thy soul 
 Through evolution to the God Sublime. 
 
 Another moment — and the hours are made 
 Which draw us to, or from. Perfection's quest, 
 
 Incarnate now ; now free. 
 
 Making our destiny 
 That which we will under God's own behest. 
 
 Hence Time is not for thee or me to claim ; 
 Nor heed its markings as its limits flee. 
 
 Held in the bonds of earth. 
 
 Striving for Spirit birth. 
 Our spirits measure in eternity. 
 
 And in this Truth lies all there is of life ; 
 And in each life lies all there is of Truth; 
 
 And as the Life Divine 
 
 In thee and me combine. 
 So do we find, as One, eternal youth. 
 May 12, 1912. 
 
ON A GOLDEN WEDDING. 
 
 Come Cupid ! we must travel far, 
 
 But it will give thee joy to know 
 Thy happy duty is to ring 
 
 The wedding bells of long ago, 
 Whose silvery echoes quivering yet 
 
 Down all the years that since have passed, 
 Finds mated souls awaiting thee 
 
 To ring the golden chimes at last. 
 
 So ring in softest sweetest notes, 
 
 And as the gold-tuned volume rolls 
 Up through the sunset skies of Life 
 
 Twill tell of twinned, and loving souls. 
 Come Pegasus ! we ride tonight 
 
 The pathway blazed by fifty years 
 Of life and its vicissitudes, 
 
 Its storm and sunshine, smiles and tears. 
 
 Ah ! Here we are ! Now Cupid mark 
 
 Yon laughing girl, and sturdy lad, - 
 Dost not in retrospection see 
 
 How fair the game thy arrow had? 
 How well thy love-tipped shaft was sped. 
 
 That struck in hearts designed as one 
 In that sublime arch-scheme of life 
 
 That hath outlived the living sun? 
 
 And see ! As we retrace the way. 
 
 Here, Hymen taking up the task 
 Hath healed the wound thy barb had made 
 
 And leaves no greater boon to ask. 
 The solemn marriage vows are made. 
 
 That pledge the twain as one for aye. 
 Throughout this life, and e'en beyond 
 
 The veil that hides the Mystery. 
 
 Now here ! forth from Life's opening dawn 
 
 The stork is flying, well awing. 
 And safe across the chasm of Death 
 
 The crown of Motherhood doth bring. 
 We pass more years now, and 'tis noon. 
 
 Life's noon, full sunned with calm content 
 Implanted in the faithful hearts 
 
 That find God's work well done, well meant. 
 
 20 
 
Now on ! And here Life's even'tide 
 
 Drops cooling shadows o'er the glare 
 Of earlier years, and thus they gaze 
 
 In peace adown the vista there ; 
 And in Life's twilight live anew 
 
 The years that never will be old 
 Tho' space of time may measure far 
 
 And many a changing scene unfold. 
 Stop Pegasus ! Our ride is done, 
 
 We're back again to Winthrop town, 
 So, still thy tireless beating wings. 
 
 And let myself and Cupid down. 
 March 27, 1908. 
 
 21 
 
MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 Had I the fabled wishes three 
 And right to wish them all for thee, 
 
 My Daughter! 
 I'd find the choice as hard as those 
 Who found all wishing vain, 
 With a black pudding on a nose, 
 But wish it off again. 
 
 Had I the right to wishes two. 
 And right to wish them both for you. 
 
 My Daughter! 
 I fear 'twould prove as hard a task. 
 For what two things on earth 
 Outranking others, might one ask. 
 As being of the greatest worth? 
 
 But if one wish I might demand, 
 That I could place at your command> 
 
 My Daughter! 
 I know the wish with which Fd bless 
 Your every day and hour ; 
 Fd wish you happiness. 
 You'd need no other dower. 
 
 22 
 
Here's a hope box all for thee, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 And the hope we place within it 
 First, is that no single minute, 
 From the moment you begin it, 
 Will have aught but pleasure in it, 
 
 Marjorie. 
 
 Verily 
 We would speed thee merrily. 
 
 So this hope box now for thee, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 Holds the hope that never hour 
 But that angel's loving power 
 Shall thy life with sunbeams shower. 
 Shall make happiness thy dower, 
 
 Marjorie. 
 
 Ever free. 
 Of all but life's pleasantry. 
 
 And this hope box more for thee, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 Holds the hope that never day. 
 But that shall know thee ever gay. 
 Joyous at thy work or play, 
 Finding flowers of life's way, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 
 As the bee 
 Finds the sweetest readily. 
 
 Then this hope box most for thee, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 Holds the hope that never year 
 But shall find no stain of tear 
 Bringing grief within thy sphere ; 
 Dimming eyes erstwhile so clear, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 
 San Souci, 
 Fain thy years we'd build to be. 
 
 Now this hope is for thee, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 To enhance with added treasure 
 Wherein maiden hearts find pleasure. 
 While the hours the life days measure 
 By protracting youth's sweet leisure, 
 
 Marjorie, 
 
 'Till thy HE 
 Finds thy heart's lock with love's key. 
 
 2S 
 
SING ON. 
 (To Leslie.) 
 
 Sing on Sweet Soul! 
 While Life's red wine of youth 
 
 Fills all thy veins. 
 Nor dare to question Truth, 
 
 Nor count thy gains. 
 
 Sing on Sweet Soul ! 
 While hope is beating high ; 
 
 And love alone 
 Can rim and fill thy sky 
 
 And life condone. 
 
 Sing on Sweet Soul! 
 With all thy maiden's power 
 
 Of poesy. 
 Mind well this is thine hour ; 
 
 Hold it to thee. 
 
 Sing on Sweet Soul! 
 For youth lives but a day, 
 
 And night must be, 
 E'er other dawns inveigh 
 
 Eternity. 
 
 24 
 
TO MY WIFE. 
 
 Mayhap the sun is shining. 
 
 As it shone when you were here, 
 They say it is so, 
 But well I know, 
 It brings to me no cheer. 
 There's something missing from the day, 
 The universe seems all astray. 
 Perhaps I miss you dear? 
 
 Mayhap the stars are shining, 
 As they shown on yesternight. 
 But if this be, 
 Tis not for me 
 Joy lies in their soft light. 
 There seems a pall 'twixt heaven and me 
 That dulls the stars. Can it then be 
 You made the stars so bright? 
 
 Mayhap the moon is shining 
 As it shone upon us two 
 In auld lang syne, 
 When night divine 
 Was silvered all for you. 
 But I find no sheen to the moonlight now, 
 And night is old and dead. I trow 
 You have taken the moonlight, too. 
 
 Mayhap you care for this dear. 
 Are glad in a woman's way. 
 The universe 
 You bless or curse, 
 As you may go or stay. 
 And if this be weakness, or this be strength, 
 I do not care for I know at length, 
 You will bring back my own some day. 
 
 25 
 
THE HOPE BOX. 
 
 When Pandora, the fairest of women, was given 
 The box which contained every human emotion, 
 And charged, under fiat of heaven's displeasure, 
 To never attempt to discover its treasure ; 
 As by this alone would be proved her devotion 
 To the peoples of earth, and the gods ruling 
 
 heaven. 
 This charming lady, more curious than wise. 
 Fell to evil temptation, and looked at her prize. 
 
 And lo ! As the heaven-made cover was lifted, 
 All the gifts of the gods which the box had con- 
 tained 
 Flew swiftly away, and were spread everywhere, 
 To Pandora's great terror, no less than despair. 
 Yet one gentle blessing, for pity remained, 
 To solace, in loss, one who had been o'er gifted 
 In all but the strength with temptation to cope. 
 And this kindly blessing is that we call HOPE. 
 
 Thus HOPE, dearest girl, from the box of Pan- 
 dora, 
 
 Has shone down the ages gone by since that day 
 
 All undimmed. The one heritage woman may 
 cherish 
 
 Close, close to her heart, and ne'er fear it can 
 perish ; 
 
 For hope is self given to woman for aye. 
 
 And hope gilds life's clouds with its own golden 
 aura. 
 
 And hope builds the heart for life's joy: that 
 the sorrow 
 
 Which shadows today, shall be gone with the 
 morrow. 
 
 Now 'twas from this story the custom is taken, 
 That all who from Hymen would seek interces- 
 sion, 
 Should place on his altar a HOPE BOX; en- 
 shrining 
 Therein, first a heart, and about this entwining 
 Such dainties as make for a young bride's pos- 
 session. 
 So we, in the hope that some worthy heart waken 
 To merit your own, if you be not unwilling, 
 Contribute your Hope Box — now you do the 
 filling. 
 
 26 
 
And as you link present and future in day dreams, 
 
 Enfolding like incense your thoughts with each 
 dower, 
 
 May they reach to Olympus, and bring you full 
 favor, 
 
 With each of the gods, and they grant that life's 
 savor 
 
 Shall thread through your own like the scent of a 
 flower, 
 
 The song of the birds, or the dancing of sun- 
 beams, 
 
 And happiness only and always attend you, 
 
 With angels to guard, and your heart to commend 
 you. 
 
 27 
 
YOUR SONGS. 
 (To Margaret.) 
 
 A lark aswing in the upper air; 
 Hid in the mists of heaven's blue 
 
 Far from my sight, yet full and fair 
 Sent down a song so sweet and true — 
 And child he sent me a thought of you. 
 
 Afloat somewhere on a starlit bay, 
 
 A maiden sang, and the sweet tones grew 
 
 Sweeter for distance. And far away 
 The singer sailed, but e'en she drew 
 My thought, and sent me a thought of you. 
 
 Out from a casement in cloister tower 
 Sweet and sad, with the night wind blew 
 
 A song, that came in my heart's dead hour 
 And waked it, and gave it a life anew. 
 And child this sent me a thought of you. 
 
 For so thy songs, from a fair unseen. 
 Pure with thy youth, like heaven's dew. 
 
 Have fallen where flowers have one time been, 
 Where seeds have fallen that never grew. 
 And thus was given my thought of you. 
 
 And so the chime of the poet thought 
 Each empty bar of convention drew. 
 
 And I have heeded what you wrought. 
 
 And the songs you sing, they are sweet and true, 
 Thus the lark and songs gave me thought of you. 
 
 28 
 
A CHRISTMAS WISH. 
 
 Were mine the gift to make one wish, 
 
 That in the wishing could come true, 
 I'd wish no more than come what may, 
 
 T'would bring but happiness to you. 
 That from contentment's chalice, deep 
 
 You'd quaff, and in the draught you'd find 
 The Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men, 
 
 That He of Bethlehem designed. 
 
 29 
 
TO MY LITTLE GRANDDAUGHTER ON HER 
 BIRTHDAY. 
 
 I have no gift of sordid worth, 
 To bring thee on thy natal day, 
 But through the garden of my heart 
 
 With thee I'll stray 
 And pluck the gifts of God, dear child, 
 On which the fairies all have smiled 
 Sweet charms, to bear thee safely 
 
 On Life's way. 
 
 30 
 
JUST A LOVE THOUGHT. 
 
 When the warm wind doth come in the chill of 
 the night, 
 In your eyes it is love I would see ; 
 Oh be thou not coy while my love-laden heart 
 
 Is bursting with treasure for thee, 
 Oh be thou not shy, when thou knowest thou art 
 
 Of all the world only for me. 
 I've sought thee, I've found thee, and now while 
 my arms 
 Do hold thee, oh! tell me I pray 
 That doubt hath all fled and 'tis meet trust that 
 warms 
 Thy heart which shall be mine alway. 
 
 31 
 
THAT'S MOTHER. 
 
 Is her hair touched with grey? Does a line here 
 and there 
 
 Show in passing through life, there were mile- 
 stones of care; 
 
 Yet the charm of her smile finds no cloud resting 
 there, 
 
 That's Mother. 
 
 Is she ready always, with counsel or deed. 
 
 To guide or to aid to the limit of need, 
 
 Has she praise (tho' all others may blame) in 
 
 full meed? 
 
 That's Mother. 
 Does she meet your misdeed with forgiveness 
 
 and love? 
 Does she pour from the gold of her heart's 
 
 treasure trove 
 Ceaseless prayers to that Friend she depends on 
 
 above? 
 
 That's Mother. 
 
 Does she watch for your coming with joy in her 
 
 heart. 
 Does she grieve for your going, but hide the 
 
 keen smart 
 Of the tears she withholds with her sweet 
 
 selfless art? 
 
 That's Mother— That's Mother. 
 
 32 
 
THE MEN WHO FOLLOWED DREUX. 
 
 Halt company ! Front face ! Ground arms ! 
 
 Drums, beat the long tattoo! 
 
 Attention : Sergeant call the roll ; 
 
 And tho' your remnant few 
 
 May sadden for the silent gaps 
 
 Which shows that Time has sounded "Taps" 
 
 For many, still to you 
 
 The honor of a soldier's pride 
 
 Must warm each heart as tears are dried, 
 
 To know they followed Dreux. 
 
 Gallant, the leader loved by all. 
 
 Found gallantly as true. 
 
 In every soldier's heart enrolled 
 
 Under the flag of Dreux. 
 
 And tho' the decimating years 
 
 Have thinned your ranks, ye need no tears 
 
 E'en tho' affections due; 
 
 For valor laid your leader low 
 
 And honor leaves no place for woe 
 
 With those who followed Dreux. 
 
 November 15, 1916 — Written on the occasion of the re- 
 turn of the old battle flag to the eight surviving members 
 of the Orleans Cadets, whose Captain, Charles Dreux, was 
 the first officer of Louisiana to fall in the war between the 
 States. 
 
NAY! GRIEVE THOU NOT O, FRIENDS. 
 (In Memoriam, To Nina.) 
 
 0, friends grieve not that God has claimed His 
 own, 
 
 To guide to life more perfect that fair soul, 
 Which in its mortal guise ye knew and loved. 
 
 And yet ye knew not in its spirit's whole. 
 For ! the veil is thin ; and lest she know 
 
 Ye feel the desolation of her flight, 
 Seek ye the truth of everlasting life. 
 
 Which shines for all in the eternal light. 
 
 She is not dead, nor ever can she die; 
 
 She but has paused to rest along life's way ; 
 Weary of earth, has laid earth's shell aside 
 
 To be no longer fettered by its clay. 
 While in those realms where readjustment waits. 
 
 For all who rest in Death's sweet interlude, 
 She still evolves the sweetness of herself 
 
 Into the perfect flowers' beatitude. 
 
 Si 
 
AN ACROSTIC. 
 
 As thou wouldst rest at peace, 
 
 Live well while life remains, 
 
 Lest, when thy soul is freed 
 
 Some day; and thou dost count thy gains, 
 
 A thoughtless word or deed. 
 
 In idle moment given, 
 
 Narrows the earnings of thy acts 
 
 To lesser joys in heaven. 
 
 See that thy heart is pure, 
 
 Do for mankind thy best. 
 
 And then indeed thy deeds of here, 
 
 Yonder, will bring thee rest. 
 
 All Saints' Day is an annual celebration, held on Novem- 
 ber 1st, in New Orleans, when people of all classes, kinds 
 and conditions visit the cemeteries and place flowers on 
 the tombs and graves of departed relatives and friends. 
 A beautiful effect is produced, and it is the adherence to 
 these unique customs that makes the city quaint and dif- 
 ferent to others. 
 
SUNSET. 
 
 A crimson line of horizon, 
 
 O'er topped by liquid gold, 
 Merging to dainty violet 
 
 On blue's high arching mold. 
 A purple fringe of darkening trees, 
 
 Far stretched across the West 
 Lost in the gleam of silvered lake, 
 
 As Phoebus seeks his rest. 
 
 Gray-blue the clouds that softly fall 
 
 As curtains o'er the sky ; 
 Thus gradient change impels the day 
 
 With gentle force, to fly. 
 The heart's sweet Angelus has rung, 
 
 And Nightfall claims the land, 
 Peace reigns. Life struggles all have ceased 
 
 Under the Night's command. 
 
 36 
 
YOUTH. 
 
 Where the Summer days are dying 
 
 And the Autumn, red and gold, 
 Fills the woodland with a splendor 
 
 All its own, 
 Many a lad and lissome maiden 
 
 Wander sadly hand in hand; 
 Hearts with pain of parting laden 
 
 Pain they cannot understand. 
 
 And they tell the old, old story 
 
 Of the love that ne'er can die. 
 Till the sun has lost his glory. 
 
 And the stars desert the sky. 
 Oh ! the pity that a parting 
 
 Must the pledges test for truth. 
 And the tears in bright eyes starting 
 
 Always are the tears of youth. 
 
 37 
 
PAKTING. 
 
 Farewell! Ah yes, but not goodbye 
 
 For there be other holidays, 
 
 When you and I dear, hand in hand 
 
 Will tread the old familiar ways ; 
 
 So just the grip 
 
 Of fellowship ; 
 
 But not goodbye ! Oh ! not goodbye ! 
 
 Adieux ! Ah yes, but not goodbye, 
 
 We cannot use a word so drear, 
 
 When in our ramblings we have found 
 
 So much to soothe, so much to cheer, 
 
 Hand pressing hand, 
 
 We understand; 
 
 But not goodbye ! Oh ! not goodbye ! 
 
 Adios ! Ah yes, but not goodbye. 
 
 For that might spread across the years 
 
 That reach out to eternity. 
 
 And blind our eyes with searing teat's. 
 
 So with a smile 
 
 We'll part the while ; 
 
 But not goodbye! Ah! not goodbye! 
 
 38 
 
THE LAMENT OF THE LIONESS. 
 
 Oh Night, thou art all my own 
 
 With thy pale moon on the wane, 
 Watching, I watch alone, 
 
 But my vigil is all in vain. 
 Hopeless, my hungry heart 
 
 Waits for my King's glad call. 
 Up from the foot of the mountain pass. 
 
 There's a sob in the wind — that's all. 
 
 Oh Grief, thou art all my own! 
 
 For the love of my life is gone. 
 Weeping, I weep alone. 
 
 For so it is life goes on. 
 There be som^etime joy in the golden day. 
 
 But the darkness of loss to all. 
 There's a cold dead form on the trackless plain, 
 
 There's a sob in the ynnd — that's all. 
 
 Oh Love, thou art all my own! * 
 
 Thou art all Life has left to me. 
 Loving, I love alone, 
 
 And live in love's mem.ory. 
 Living, I live with Death's cold shade 
 
 Clouding Life's roses all. 
 For he has the Desert for sepulchre. 
 
 There's a sob in the wind — that's all. 
 
 Oh Death, thou art all my own! 
 
 Thou art all Life has left to me, 
 Waiting, I wait alone, 
 
 For the summons to come from thee. 
 Hist! Tis his well-loved voice. 
 
 Sweet does its cadence fall, 
 Calling me home, ah I come love, I come. 
 
 There's a sob in the wind — ^that's all. 
 
 39 
 
THE END OF THE HONEYMOON. 
 
 You Zekial, w'at you doin* dere? Is yoh contrac' 
 
 done expired? 
 Or is you de cullud gemman dat my fancy fust 
 
 admired? 
 Is you tryin' to 'nounce de promises you cluttered 
 
 out so glib, 
 Wen you swo' dis yearth was Eden, en I was yoh 
 
 long los' rib? 
 Well you gotter wake up nigger, 'cos de time fo' 
 
 dreams is pas', 
 En dis hea's de realizin' dat's a reachin' fo' you 
 
 fas'. 
 Yoh ole taffy pot's biled over, an de taffy's all 
 
 done burned. 
 En it's gettin' meat en taters now dat's got us 
 
 two concerned. 
 
 Wen Br'er Johnsing gib de blessin', en sed, ''You 
 
 Two is One," 
 I spec' it got up in yoh wool dat yoh struggles 
 
 was 'bout done: 
 En you th'ot Br'er Johnsing 'dressed dem words 
 
 seclusively to you? 
 Well you goin' to change dat 'pinion now — 'cause 
 
 One en One is TWO. 
 En I'se dat TWO ! you hea' me suh? En you's jes' 
 
 'bout er half. 
 De idea of you bein' IT. Nigger you make me 
 
 laff! 
 I'se full growed, en mah wisdom tooths has long 
 
 ago cut through; 
 En I knows too much to squandah strength sup- 
 
 po'tin' sech es you. 
 
 Ain't feelin' well? I guess you aint. But you 
 
 gwynter feel much wuss 
 If dis succumstanshal yevidence is eny good to 
 
 trus'. 
 You see dat big roun' rollin* pin, en ou see dis 
 
 heah big ahm : — 
 Well dat's a hint, en I tell you man dat you wants 
 
 to take alahm. 
 We might need Votes for Wimmin — ^but we don't 
 
 to run dis roost, 
 For Equal Rights (wid er rollin' pin), is easily 
 
 projoosed 
 
As part en parcel of de scheme of dis lop-sided 
 
 life; 
 En we gwynter start dat scheme right now : you 
 
 take DAT from yoh wife. 
 
 I guess de zephyrs waf my words to yoh t*ick 
 
 haid pretty clear; 
 But so you'll know 'zac'ly what I mean — GIT- 
 RIGHT UP FROM DAT CHEAR, 
 En amble down to de tater patch — en doan' you 
 
 move too slow ; 
 En w'en you git dar, Zezial lub, you pick up dat 
 
 hoe— EN HOE ! 
 En w'en I toot on de dinner horn, come in en git 
 
 yoh grub; 
 You shan't know de lack of er good squar* meal, 
 
 if you work f o' it, my lub. 
 En tomorrer, jes' at de crack er day (w'ile de air 
 
 is kinder cool). 
 You kin plow up some of de ole no'th fiel'. Now 
 
 de sun's too hot — fo' de mule. 
 
 En bear in min' dat de firewood en de water 
 
 totin' too 
 Is part of de scheme of dis toilin' life dat falls, 
 
 my lub, to you. 
 I'll do my share, en cook, en wash, en sew, en 
 
 patch yoh clothes ; 
 En do all de t'ings dat er woman should — en dat's 
 
 plenty enuff, Gawd knows. 
 But you can't sit in er rockin' chear, en me work 
 
 f o' yoh keep ; 
 You won't fin' dat dis lady is by half dat much 
 
 asleep. 
 No ! I ain't cross ! Not yet dear— but don't stop 
 
 to argufy, 
 Or you'll know how cross yoh pet kin git, in de 
 
 close up by en by. 
 
 Out yander, in dat cypress clump, mah free fust 
 
 hus'bans res'. 
 En dey each started in wid er fool idea dat de 
 
 MAN was fust en bes'. 
 But Lawzee ! Didn't dey change dere min's w'en 
 
 I showed 'em ban's was ban's, 
 Dat shouldn't do on a woman's ahms eny mo' dan 
 
 dey should on a man's. 
 
 44 
 
If de woman mus' wash fo' her daily bread, den 
 
 de man mus' dig f o' it too. 
 De Lord has giv' us each our work, en we gotter 
 
 see it through. 
 So Zekial, you jes' hit de trail, like dem dat's gone 
 
 ahaid. 
 En do yoh part w'ile you live, like dem; en res' 
 
 like dem, w'en you daid. 
 
 45 
 
IN BLACK AND WHITE. 
 (As Explained by Victoria Jackson, Club Lady.) 
 
 Miss Ma'y, ef yo' please 'm, I kaint do no wash 
 
 today. 
 Dey's a 'lection at de meetin' of de Ladies' 'Mal- 
 
 gamation, 
 En de Golden Stahs of Zwn dun made me a dele-^ 
 
 gation 
 Fo' to represent dey intrus', en to hoF dem Sisters 
 
 down. 
 En I hates to disappoint yo', but dey aint no udder 
 
 way. 
 
 Yas'm, dey's jis' like de white fo'kes — aint no 
 
 better — not a bit; 
 En de way dey qua'ls en wrangles is jis' puyo 
 
 co'tamination, 
 But my people's jis' like monkeys w'en it comes to 
 
 imitation : 
 En yo' knows how yo' own club fo'ks does de same 
 
 way, I'll be boun'. 
 So de Golden Stahs aims fo' a change, en dat's 
 
 w'at I'm to git. 
 
 Well I gotter to be a movin' ! But I'll come soon in 
 
 de mawnin'. 
 En I'll cl'ar dat wash in no time — jis' to sho' my 
 
 'preciation 
 Of how yo' all has yo' trubbles in yo' Ooman's 
 
 'Filliation 
 Jis' like we has ourn, en — Ma'am? — Yas'm, I 
 
 will sho'ly tell yo' all 
 'Bout how dey ac's w'en I gits dun a givih dem 
 
 dey wamin'. 
 
 (Waves adieux. Business of going off. Then returns.) 
 
 Well, Miss Ma'y it's dun over, en my bes' close is 
 
 all spiled: 
 But yo' oughter see dat President dat beat me fo' 
 
 election. 
 I bet dey aint no spot erbout her hide kin stan' 
 
 inspection 
 'Thout sho'in' ma'ks of w'at I dun, w'en de time 
 
 fo doin cum, 
 En I sta'ted wukkin' on her. 'Cause dat 'ooman 
 
 got me riled. 
 
 46 
 
How'd it happen? W'y, Miss Ma'y, Ise a'mos' 
 ershame to tell, 
 
 Fo' de way dem ladies acted was a hones' defama- 
 tion 
 
 Wen de nominate committee cum en make dey 
 proclamation 
 
 Dat dey has two candidations fo' to run fo' presi- 
 dent, 
 
 'Cause I'se one — en Lucy Perkins is a nominate 
 as well. 
 
 Den dey sta'ts to fuss en squabble, but at las' dey 
 
 takes a ballot; 
 En dey's TWENTY-SEVEN ladies, min', in dat 
 
 whole aggergation; 
 En de count sho's I gits NINETEEN votes, en 
 
 'taint no 'zaggeration 
 Wen I tells yo' dat dey counted Lucy Perkins 
 
 TWENTY-FO'. 
 En w'en I claims de 'lection crookec^, Lucy hits 
 
 me wid de mallet. 
 
 Well, I 'low dat aggervates me — en I clum' right 
 
 up dat lady; 
 Den I clum' down — en I sho'ly lef her close a 
 
 dee-gredation 
 To eny modes' 'ooman, from dey state of 'brevia- 
 
 tion, 
 Fo' I lef her 'bout dress up in strings, en little 
 
 mo' beside. 
 En I'se sho' she's mighty sorry now her lection 
 
 was so shady. 
 
 Oh, no'm! Not only me an' her. Dem ladies all 
 
 bus' in: 
 En far up close, en pull out wool, 'thout much 
 
 real 'scrimination, 
 En w'en dey quits, dey quits becos we 'tain de 
 
 'limination 
 Of all de fight dem ladies had — en also mos' dey 
 
 close ; 
 En teach 'em how to vote nex' yeah, w'en we elects 
 
 agin. 
 
 So yo' see, it's like I tells yo', Miss Ma'y, jus' de 
 
 same. 
 Us ladies aint no better dan yo' OomarCs 'Fillia- 
 
 tion. 
 
 47 
 
En dis hyah fac', Miss Ma'y is er sho' hoomilia- 
 
 tion. 
 But I hopes de 'Malgamation ladies '11 reprove dey 
 
 manners, 
 Fo' de way yo' white fo'ks ca' 'ys on, is jis' a sin 
 
 en shame. 
 
 Yas'm yo' does Couse I kaint 'spute yo' all re- 
 specks yo' close, 
 
 But dat's wha' yo' respeck dun quit, 'cordin my 
 information, 
 
 En w'at yo' needs, like w'at we needs, is Chris- 
 chun toleration, 
 
 To b*ar us through de conflicts dat is sho* de Club 
 life's burden, 
 
 'Thout fergittin' we is ladies, tho* dat's ha'd enuff, 
 Lawd knows. 
 
 48 
 
Is yo' only crazy, uh jus' a fool 
 
 'Thout no sense in yo' t'ick haid 
 Yo' shif'less, idle, ign'ant coon, 
 
 To say w'at yo' jus' dun said? 
 Cou'se 'taint no matter w'at yo' b'lieve 
 
 'Bout dese Equal Rights no how. 
 En dey's white fo'ks 'thout mo sense 'n yo' 
 
 Spouts 'bout like yo', I 'low. 
 
 En dey all 'splains jus' de same as yo' 
 
 Dat de good Lawd, w'en He plan, 
 Dun figgered dat de nuniverse 
 
 Was co'struc' for de he male man. 
 En dey s'potes dis wid de argiment 
 
 Dat He dun make Adam fus'; 
 But Law-Zee-Me! Was He satisfy 
 
 Wid dat job He make ob dus? 
 
 It looks like not, w'en He right away 
 
 Tuk a rib from dat Adam's side 
 En made Him a 'ooman t' improve de man 
 
 En ter keep him passified. 
 Den He tell 'em bof, "Now yo' two go 'long 
 
 En boss ebryt'ing yo' see ; 
 'Scep'in don't yo' eat no fo'bidden fruit 
 
 Wat grows on dat yander tree." 
 
 Den dey say "No suh" en dey goes dey way. 
 
 But de Debbil he snuck eroun'. 
 En he 'low, "I gess hyah's a job fo' me, 
 
 Fo' to bus' up his peace I'm boun'." 
 Den he crep' in a sarpent w'ats loafin roun, 
 
 En he walk him up to de pair 
 Stan'in' straight on his tail: en he say "Please 
 Ma'am, 
 
 De Lord He ain't totin' fair." 
 
 "Hyah's a apple, Miss Eve, w'at fall out dat tree, 
 
 En b'lieve me. Ma'am, it's true 
 Ef yo' jus' take a bite yo' sho' gwynter see 
 
 'Twont do any hahm to you." 
 Den Eve, perlite like, pass de fruit, 
 
 En says, "Adam s'pose yo' tries." 
 Den de Bebbil he whisper, *'Quick ! Be cute. 
 
 Bite fust — den yo'll fust git wise." 
 
 49 
 
Wid how wise it dun make him feel; 
 En he clean fo'get 'bout Eve at fus' 
 
 En would't hear, nur heed her 'peal, 
 'Till she grab de apple, en sna'ch her bite, 
 
 En dat's huccum, till now, 
 De 'ooman's behin' in dis Debbil's stew 
 
 Dat dese Lawd's ob Creation 'low. 
 
 But w'at happen den was dat Adam eye 
 
 Po' Eve wid de eye ob blame, 
 En he 'low in a stern reprovin' way, 
 
 *'Ooman, sho yo' mus' feel ershame 
 To be traipsin' roun' like yo' has bin doin' 
 
 'Thout so much as er stitch ob close, 
 So I'se gwynter direc' yo' in modesty; 
 
 Hyah's sum fig leaves, dress in dose." 
 
 En dat's huccum he 'press her min' 
 
 'Ooman kaint be no match fo' man 
 In de brazen doin's he plan to do 
 
 Afterw'ile wid he marster han'. 
 En Eve she blush, en she bow her haid 
 
 Low down to dat fus' Lord's will. 
 En dey's Six T'ousan' yaahs gone by 
 
 Since den, but it's bowed down still. 
 
 En den w'at nex' dus dat Adam do 
 
 Wen de Lawd catch 'em makin' close 
 En 'cuses Adam, dat he dun vi'late 
 
 De tree, as de good Lawd knows? 
 Ole Adam he tries to shif ' de blame ; 
 
 En he waller 'roun' en bleat, 
 *'De 'ooman yo' giv' Lawd, tem'ted me. 
 
 En pester me, till I Eat." 
 
 But de Lawd He's jus'. En He shoo 'em bof 
 
 From dat gyarden, to sweat en toil 
 Fo' dey daily bread, en de close dey v/ear, 
 
 In de grind ob de worl's termoil. 
 Den dat Ole Fox say, "Now 'ooman dear, 
 
 Dishyah gwynter be ruff fo' yo' 
 So I'll boss de job, en yo'll hev my keer, 
 
 En I'll 'low w'at yo' is ter do. 
 
 Den he b'ilt him a hoodoo pedestal 
 Outer washtubs, brooms en stoves, 
 
 En t'ings like dat dat I kaint ha'f call, 
 Wid some jewels, en laces, en gloves 
 
 50 
 
Den he coax, ''Git up my dear, 
 En you'll fin' up dere ail de things yo' need 
 Dat b'longs to de 'ooman's sphere. 
 
 Now de ooman eat las' ob de knowledge tree, 
 
 En de man he eat de mos' 
 So dat's huccum she 'low to 'gree 
 
 He's de onlies' boss ob co'se. 
 But de leaven dat cum from dat 'ooman's bite 
 
 Been workin' from den till now. 
 En she's cum to see dat de 'ooman's sp'ere 
 
 Aint no less dan de man's nohow. 
 
 Fo' no man eber cum to de worl' since den 
 
 Dat a 'ooman has'nt bo'n 
 En de bref ob life en de han' ob death 
 
 Treats de two ob dem jus' like one. 
 En if de 'ooman is fittin' to bear 
 En to nuss, en to raise dat man, 
 She sho' is fitten' to enywhere 
 
 Longside where de man might stan'. 
 
 So de man who 'poses Equal Rights, 
 
 Is de greedy Adam kin' 
 Who wants de mos' en de bigges' bites 
 
 From de apple dat bull's de min'. 
 But he lives too late, en yo' gwynter see 
 
 De cum back of de Eden hour, 
 Wen de man en de 'ooman is gwinter be 
 
 Side by side in dey rights en power. 
 
 51 
 
ME AND Bi^LLb^KUfHUIS. 
 (E. J. G. to J. H. R. in Reply to A Pindaric Ode.) 
 
 Whoa Pegasus! Let me get down, 
 
 Methinks this pace doth grow too hot. 
 No Bellerophon I, to hold 
 
 Against This Chimera, God wot, 
 Whose verbose Fire doth scorch my brain 
 
 With knowledge of foredoomed defeat. 
 Nor all Minerva's friendliness, 
 
 Nor gift of golden rein can cheat 
 Years of the penalty of years, 
 
 Nor age the toll it pays to youth. 
 Let me get down, winged beast; 
 
 I know when I am licked forsooth. 
 
 Thrice have I ridden full and free. 
 
 My Falchion aiming for the Head 
 Whence comes this Glowing Lingual Fire 
 
 More withering than Chimaera's dread. 
 And though my polished blade was edged 
 
 By Webster, Worcester and Roget ; 
 His weapons are of better make. 
 
 And tempered to a better day. 
 I yield! Let Proteus have his will, 
 
 And lobates have my head : 
 Polydius cannot help me now. 
 
 With J. H. R. in Chimsera's stead. 
 
 Chance not the wrath of Jupiter 
 
 Against my lost celestial hope. 
 Wait not for gadfly's cruel sting, 
 
 To work out all the ancient dope. 
 No Bellerophon ever fell 
 
 From thy round back with heavier thud 
 Than I; when J. H. R's. last assault 
 
 Left me unhorsed and in the mud, 
 With helm, and casque, and shield, and lance 
 
 But fit for Auction's highest bid: 
 And I to grope through Aleian field 
 
 As lamed, blind Bellerophon did. 
 
 Whoa Pegasus ! I cannot cope 
 
 With J. H. R. and his knightly train: 
 
 With Chaucer, Goldsmith, Shapespeare, Pope — 
 Such dead ones brought to life again — 
 
 And others of their class and time 
 Alligned 'neath his victorious flag. 
 
 Whoa, whoa ! I say, let me get down. 
 
 52 
 
I claim no right to joust like this, 
 
 For I was but a babe at birth, 
 Quite young, nor born of god nor muse. 
 
 Whoa "Peg." Let's volplane back to earth. 
 
 53 
 
I must have been a loonatic, a silly maudlin dub, 
 That ever I should let my wife get in that woman's 
 
 club, 
 For here I'm playing Mother, to a lusty brood of 
 
 chicks, 
 While she's in Alexandria, doing the fancy kicks 
 That's apt to put the Grand Kibosh on patriarchial 
 
 right • 
 
 And make us fathers, mothers, in perpetuity 
 
 quite. 
 If we get votes for women, law knows what else 
 
 we'll get. 
 But it wont be enjoyable, on that it's safe to bet. 
 Oh ! I was strong for Woman's Rights, about two 
 
 days ago. 
 But things have changed since then you see, and 
 
 now I'm going slow. 
 
 For then I was a God-made Man — and now I am 
 
 a— WHAT— 
 "It's really quite annoying" as my neighbor says, 
 
 and — but 
 I won't bring in "these men's affairs" for bad as 
 
 women are 
 They have not yet attained the right to coat and 
 
 pants of Tar. 
 But "Revenons a nous mouton," to quote in Celtic 
 
 French, 
 I'll tell you what it was that gave my heart a 
 
 wrench. 
 A woman ! Yes, a woman 'twas, and she was, yes, 
 
 my wife, 
 And while she stayed at home and talked, I talked, 
 
 too, wild and rife. 
 Of Woman's Votes and Woman's Rights, her 
 
 freedom and all that, 
 And thus I dexterously knocked into the fire the 
 
 fat. 
 
 I let her join the Suffrage Club, indeed I urged 
 her go. 
 
 And strike for freedom of her sex, at least one 
 telling blow. 
 
 I egged her on as best I could, no need for argu- 
 ment. 
 
 We both were willing and one day, I found she*d 
 gone and went. 
 
 54 
 
time you see, 
 The time she gave to women's clubs had not 
 
 affected me. 
 True now and then occasion came, when she 
 
 would sweetly say, 
 **I'm sorry I must leave you dear, but my club 
 
 meets today." 
 "By no means let that worry you, for surely every 
 
 need 
 That I can have while you're away has been well 
 
 met indeed." 
 
 "My comfort always was your care, why should 
 
 you not be free 
 To do your will, when you have been, so thought- 
 ful, dear, for me?" 
 And thus it went, I felt so big, at my philosophy 
 The wonder is I did not break a rib or two you 
 
 see. 
 But after while the deluge came, for on an April 
 
 day. 
 The federated women's clubs of this great U. S. A. 
 Held a convention in a town whose grand historic 
 
 name 
 Would bring to mind the Pyramids, of Egypt, 
 
 more's the shame 
 For Egypt, with the Pyramids too, to appropriate 
 A cognomen we'd want to use, ourselves at later 
 
 date. 
 But I digress, the town is famed for one time 
 
 raising — well 
 Don't interrupt, of course not — but, raising a fine 
 
 hotel. 
 And just the place, though built for spite, conven- 
 tions could convene. 
 And they convened all right, all right, and I could 
 
 not be mean ; 
 And let my wife be one of them, and let myself 
 
 remain 
 In charge of all domestic stunts, till she came 
 
 back again. 
 The children all attending school, became my 
 
 earliest care, 
 Then making beds and sweeping floors, most 
 
 broke my back I swear. 
 Then I forgot the marketing; the grocer left us 
 
 out, 
 Tho' he made every other house, I think, upon his 
 
 route. 
 
 55 
 
lady though, 
 Left all the clothes upon the line, and said 'twas 
 
 time to go 
 At two o'clock, informing me, that for six bits 
 
 a day. 
 She did all she was going to do. I let her have 
 
 her way. 
 Then came that sacred "mother hour," when little 
 
 heads must bend, 
 And hands are clasped, and baby prayers, softly 
 
 to heaven ascend. 
 I didn't have to face that trial, because each little 
 
 one. 
 Wise in its way jumped into bed and left that job 
 
 undone. 
 So thus it went from bad to worse, each day new 
 
 duties brought. 
 Each hour the agony piled on, till I was quite 
 
 distraught. 
 
 Experience brought no relief, but rather the 
 
 reverse, 
 My brain was all tied up in knots, and soon, so 
 
 was my purse. 
 I paid for things we did not need, and then got 
 
 into debt 
 For things we really had to have, e'er the fifth 
 
 sun had set. 
 A bad boy in our neighborhood, tramped down a 
 
 flower bed, 
 Belonging to a lady with hirsute adornment red, 
 She blamed it all upon my boy, and told me what 
 
 she thought. 
 In language that I could set down, but think I 
 
 hadn't ought. 
 (As incidental, though just think, if w^omen had 
 
 the vote 
 This one's as good as twenty men, and sure would 
 
 "get our goat.") 
 
 No peace, no rest, where e'er I turn, some new 
 
 disaster waits. 
 With range from bumps and tearing clothes, to 
 
 breaking cups and plates. 
 By our dear children, bless their souls, who 
 
 promised Mother dear, 
 The house would be run quite the same, as 'twas 
 
 when she was here. 
 
 56 
 
well, IX iL lo, uiicic 11 wc 111 iL, d i/iii^iv i/iiai/ X v^dii c 
 
 see, 
 And anyway, the Women's Clubs, never again for 
 
 me. 
 I see now as I never saw, that Nature, wise old 
 
 dame. 
 Entranced by manly attributes, and sensitive to 
 
 our blame. 
 Has made us great creation's lords, and left it 
 
 up to us. 
 To stay wise to the rights vv^e have, "Sic se, sim- 
 
 ilibus," 
 
 To keep sweet woman always sweet, the tender 
 
 clinging vine, 
 (That clings to cares we dare not face, or even 
 
 dare define). 
 To leave her free as God's own air, bound but by 
 
 duty's need, 
 (But that each duty must be done, we fully are 
 
 agreed). 
 To toil for her in busy marts (buying cigars and 
 
 drinks 
 And talking of what we could do, while she just 
 
 does and thinks) . 
 What? Votes for women? Not for mine! I've 
 
 learned a thing or two 
 About what is a woman's right, and what she 
 
 ought to do. 
 What? Votes for women? Not for mine! The 
 
 woman's place is home, 
 And, if we know our little book, we'll see the day 
 
 don't come 
 When she can vote us off the street, and load us 
 
 down with cares 
 That are enough to kill a mule, while Nature 
 
 smiles and stares. 
 
 57 
 
(Written for The Woman Suffrage Party of 
 Loufsiana. Tune, "Dixie." July, 1913. 
 
 We raise our voices in this song 
 
 To claim a right withheld too long, 
 
 Too long, too long, too long in dear Old Dixie. 
 
 The right to human recognition 
 
 As a part of woman's mission. 
 To bear, and share full franchise rights in Dixie.* 
 
 CHORUS. 
 We want a voice in Dixie 
 
 Today, Hooray! 
 In Dixie Land we understand 
 As well as men in Dixie, 
 The voice, the choice, the vote way down in Dixie, 
 The voice, the choice, the vote way down in Dixie, 
 
 Our fathers taught that government 
 
 Without the govern'ds' free consent. 
 
 Was wrong, all wrong, throughout the world and 
 Dixie. 
 Was tyranny of basest sort, 
 And so for freedom's right they fought. 
 
 And freed our land, from Canada through Dixie. 
 
 Each human soul revolts at thrall 
 And springs to life at Freedom's call 
 E'en West, e'en East, e'en North, or South in 
 Dixie. 
 
 And when the women are subverted 
 
 Under rule of right perverted 
 By Man, to Man, for Man alone in Dixie — 
 
 Why should the men, as sovereign right. 
 
 Hold suffrage theirs because of might. 
 
 Away, away, away from us in Dixie? 
 
 When the great West has blazed the way, 
 And North and East watch for the day 
 
 To break ; and wake to broader life than Dixie. 
 
 Nay! Brothers of a common race. 
 Come ! Let us take our proper place 
 Beside yourselves at every poll in Dixie. 
 
 We ask this as a vested right, 
 
 Inherent in a Mother's might 
 To rear, and train the enfranchised of Dixie. 
 
 £8 
 
AYE! 
 
 Aye! till the sun in the sky grows cold, 
 
 Aye! till the stars are still, 
 Aye! till eternity^s gates unfold, 
 
 Finding us where they will. 
 Still will I love thee, and loving live 
 On through the ages that God doth give, 
 Seeking if parted, seeking 'till found 
 Though the seeking lead to the Great Beyond. 
 
 59 
 
SAV