Qass__i 
 
 Book. 
 
 <: ■■• --' # 
 
LYRICS OF THE 
 LOST CAUSE" 
 
 By DUVAL PORTER 
 

 1914 
 
 J. T. TOWNES 'PRINTING CO. 
 
 DANVILLE, VA. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 7 5- H H' ^ ^ 
 
TESTIMONIALS 
 
 From JOHN TEMPLE GRAVES, of Georgia 
 
 I thank you for your enclosure of Marcli 7th, containing 
 "Visions of Jefferson." The poem is one of force and power and 
 most brilliantly written, and I value it very highly. 
 
 From Mr. J. STEWART BRYAN, Richmond, Va. 
 I have just read your beautiful poem on Mrs. Joseph Bry- 
 an, and I have seldom seen a more just appreciation of my 
 mother^s life and service. 
 
 From GENERAL J. S. CARR^ Durham, N. C. 
 These poems of Mr. Porter should not be allowed to perish 
 but should be put in enduring form. 
 
 From THOMAS NELSON PAGE 
 Your poem on Edgar Allen Poe is a splendid tribute to that 
 erratic genius, the fifth and last stanzas striking me as peculiar- 
 ly fine. 
 
 From SENATOR JOHN W. DANIEL 
 
 I have read your poem on "Old Jube," and consider it a fine 
 tribute to that grand old Confederate. 
 
 From SENATOR CLAUDE A. SWANSON 
 
 I have read with much pleasure some recent poems and 
 articles from your pen, which were written with your usual 
 grace and ability. 
 
 From EX-GOVERNOR A. J. MONTAGUE 
 
 I thank you for your poem, "Visions of Jefferson" which I 
 have read with great interest and pleasure and will re-read 
 several times. 
 
 From Dr. EDWIN A. ALDERSON, Pres. University of Va. 
 
 Your poem on Gettysburg, I have read with great interest. 
 It possesses pathos, dignity and power. 
 
 From DR. B. M. WALKER, Danville, Va. 
 
 The poem of Duval Porter on Gettysburg is a thrilling mas- 
 terpiece of word-painting of one of the greatest battles and is 
 alone worth the price of the book. 
 
 From E. LEE TRINKLE, Wytheville, Va. 
 
 I am fully persuaded you have gotten in touch with th« 
 poetic muse, as all your poems cleary show this. 
 
 Form BERKELEY MINOR, Staunton, Va. 
 
 Your poem on "Richmond" is a handsome tribute to th« 
 city which suffered so much for the good old cause. 
 
PRESS NOTES 
 
 Duval Porter, well known in this section as a gifted literary 
 man, will, we learn, in the near future oflFer to the public an 
 edition of his poems, entitled, "Lyrics of the Lost Cause," and 
 "Other Poems." Those who have read Mr. Porter's poems in 
 this and other papers, speak of them in the very highest terms. 
 Many of them are patriotic epics, thrilling in description, and 
 beautiful in expression. — Danville, Register. 
 
 A poem on "Memorial Day," and dedicated to the Mildred 
 Lee Chapter, Daughters of the Confederacy of Martinsville, 
 was read here on Memorial Day by Mr. A. L. Gravely. It is 
 a great poem, and produced a profound impression. — Henry 
 Bulletin. 
 
 The poem on "Gettysburg," which appeared in last Sun- 
 day's Observer, not only excited unusual interest here, but 
 created remarkable attention throughout the entire State. — 
 The Charlotte (N. C.) News-Observer. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Tho* well aware poetic praise 
 
 Is rarely won these prosy days 
 
 Since everything in Heaven and earth 
 
 Has been pre-empted, hence the dearth, 
 
 Of any subject to inspire 
 
 The poet's soul to string his lyre 
 
 Yet poets hopeful ever are 
 
 To win where reason would despair. 
 
 Hence gentle reader, it requires 
 
 Unbounded faith when one aspires 
 
 To reach the world in way of rhyme 
 
 On aught ridiculous or sublime. 
 
 But it may be some happy hint, 
 
 Some thoughts as yet, unknown to print 
 
 As heretofore, within you'll find 
 
 In book to you that's now consigned 
 
 And altho it maybe too mean 
 
 To stir up any critic's spleen, 
 
 Who knows but that some line may touch 
 
 A stricken heart and soothe it much. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 To that noble gentleman and true friend, Thomas B. 
 Fitzgerald, of Danville, Virginia, who beginning life 
 poor, and with few educational advantages has made 
 it successful and in whose fine fortune there is not 
 one dirty shilling 
 
 This little volume is affectionately dedicated. 
 
"Lyrics of the Lost Cause*' 
 
 THE SOUTHERN CAUSE 
 
 Oh, Righteous Cause, for which we fought, 
 And for which thousands died, 
 
 We glory in it as we ought 
 And point to it with pride. 
 
 The Cause for which our fathers bled, 
 
 In Revolution days, 
 The right of self-defense instead 
 
 Of treasonable ways. 
 
 No "Cause" is "Lost" that has the right. 
 
 Success is often wrong, 
 Tho' seemingly it wins the fight. 
 
 The honors still belong 
 
 To those in failure or defeat, 
 
 Who tried and did their best. 
 As long as noble hearts shall beat 
 
 Within a human breast. 
 
 Was Russia right and Poland wrong 
 
 Contending for its place. 
 Among the nations, brave and long 
 
 'Till crushed by power base? 
 
 The reverence all true Southrons feel, 
 
 No foes can over-awe. 
 For Cause that ever will appeal, 
 
 With all the force of law. 
 
 And yet we are today as true 
 
 To country's flag as they, 
 Who bore it then and wore the Blue 
 
 'Gainst those who wore the Gray. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 THE CONFEDERATE PRIVATE 
 Invocation 
 
 While others sing of Grecian Isles 
 In strains that ev'ry heart beguiles 
 How warriors fought and heroes fell 
 For Helen false, and fickle belle ; 
 Or how the Grecian army stood 
 A bulwark to the Persian flood, 
 And roll'd it backward as the tide, 
 That smites in vain the mountain's side. 
 
 Let these and kindred themes belong 
 To Homers of immortal song ; 
 Let Miltons with angelic eye 
 Behold the battles of the sky. 
 Or turn with equal sweep and tell 
 Of Pandemonium's reign in Hell. 
 
 Mine be to sing in humble strain, 
 Of him w^ho bravely died to gain 
 A cause so sacred and so dear, 
 It cannot die, but re-appear 
 In every age, the right divine, 
 The right of freedom to combine. 
 When fraud and force would nullify 
 The Charters of their liberty. 
 
 My Comrades, I would sing today. 
 Of those who simply wore the gray, 
 For whom no blaring trumpet sing. 
 For whom no welcome plaudits ring, 
 Who sleep without a shaft to tell 
 The glorious fields on which they fell. 
 
 And yet we would the world should know. 
 The greatest monument below, 
 Grav'd not on stone by sculptor's art 
 But written in the Southern heart, 
 Is theirs, and theirs shall ever be 
 While men are brave, while men are free. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 GETTYSBURG 
 
 All ye who love the thrilling story 
 That forever crowns with glory 
 
 Thermopylea ; 
 All ye who love to dwell upon 
 The deathless day of Marathon, 
 
 List now to me. 
 
 I sing not of two thousand years, 
 My story modern, it appears 
 
 Bereft and bare 
 Of adventitious ornament, 
 Like some vast column, strength unspent, 
 
 And standing there 
 
 As tho' it bade defiance ev'n 
 To all the angry blast of Heav'n 
 
 That on it play ; 
 The wind, the fiercely driven rain, 
 May blow and beat on it in vain — 
 
 It came to stay. 
 
 Nor, Jena, Wagram, Austerlitz, 
 Where an immortal warrior sits 
 
 Enthroned for aye; 
 Nor Ceasar on Pharsalian Plain, 
 A world to lose, a world to gain, 
 
 I sing to-day. 
 
 Tis Gettysburg, Ah, thrilling word ! 
 "Whose mighty echo has been heard 
 
 Around the world;" 
 Where highest hope that ever gave 
 A dauntless courage to the brave 
 
 In ruin hurPd. 
 
 Gettysburg — a nation smitten, 
 Whose story never can be written 
 By friend or foe. 
 
LYRICES OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 No Waterloo, no wild retreat, 
 (Lee's army never knew defeat) — 
 How great the blow ! 
 
 Third of July, mometous day, 
 When one great nation came to stay. 
 
 And one to die! 
 When Southern arms could not prevail. 
 With leaders never known to fail ; 
 
 Twas wiird on High. 
 
 PART n 
 
 See yonder standing that gray line, 
 Impassive now, without a sign, 
 
 With bated breath? 
 Altho' unmoved as there they stand. 
 Yet will they rush at Lee's command 
 
 Right into death. 
 
 "And who are they without a sign?" 
 Garnett's, Kemper's, Armistead's line, 
 
 On dress parade. 
 **0n dress parade? You do but jest. 
 And yet they do not seem distressed 
 
 By cannonade." 
 
 The flames of battle burst on high, 
 The genius of destruction nigh, 
 
 All sounds attest; 
 Hear Longstreet's guns incessant pour 
 Their leaden hail into and o'er 
 
 That awful crest. 
 
 The vales, the hills, are thunder riv'n, 
 Shakes not only earth, but Heaven, 
 
 With uproar dire. 
 And breasts of iron, hearts of steel. 
 Would, it seems, but terror feel. 
 
 Nor face that fire 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 They know must fall upon that line, 
 Still standing there without a sign 
 
 Or trace of fear ; 
 But Armistead, Garnett, Kemper, shine. 
 Bright battle stars above that line, 
 
 And they are here. 
 
 What nerves that line at such an hour ? 
 What subtle and mysterious power 
 
 So holds it there? 
 Is't thirst of power, sense of shame. 
 The hope of plunder, love of fame, 
 
 That makes them dare? 
 
 No, no ! something nobler, higher. 
 Something all true men admire. 
 
 Aye, one and all ; 
 For as they stand with bated breath. 
 They hear on that dread post of death 
 
 Virginia's call. 
 
 There rides in front a dauntless knight, 
 With sabre drawn, inspiring sight, 
 
 Yet calm and grave ; 
 A veritable son of mars, 
 A genius who had won his stars — 
 
 Tis Armistead, brave. 
 
 "The bravest of the brave," like Ney, 
 In council wise, yet fierce in fray. 
 
 Always in place ; 
 Mind and commanding genius shine 
 In every look, in every line. 
 
 Of that strong face. 
 
 PART III 
 
 "What means that pause, that sweet surcrease? 
 And why are Longstreets guns at peace? 
 
 What means it all ? 
 Tis but the awful calm before 
 The storm begins, the dread uproar 
 About to fall. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 The capstone now will crown the arch, 
 
 As "Forward, men ! Guide centre, march !" 
 
 Rings loud and clear. 
 As, hat on sword point overhead. 
 Cries, gallant Armistead as he led 
 
 His heroes here. 
 
 "Hark ! what was that V* The signal gun. 
 Look ! Look ! The line is moving on 
 
 Against the foe. 
 Beneath that fearful cannonade 
 They march as if on dress parade. 
 
 Can this be so? 
 
 Aye, aye! Beneath the guns that blaze. 
 Inspired by Southern Marseillaise, 
 
 They face that fire. 
 The furious storm of shot and shell 
 Which on them from yon crest now fell 
 
 With carnage dire. 
 
 The bullets hiss with shrieking shell. 
 While cannons roar like blasts from Hell — 
 
 Still on they go ; 
 These men who never met defeat 
 Know not the meaning of retreat 
 
 Save by the foe. 
 
 "Their line! It halts ! No, death alone 
 Can halt that line now rushing on 
 
 That stubborn crest. 
 Tho' Balaklava, Lodi's bridge, 
 Mere toys to this awful ridge. 
 
 They fain would wrest. 
 
 Aye, not from cowards who conceal, 
 But foeman worthy of their steel. 
 
 As they had shown 
 On many a bloody field before. 
 Fields red with their heroic gore — 
 
 Their valor known. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE_ 
 
 Alas! Alas! See Armistead fall 
 In triumph as he leaps the wall, 
 
 The hero's way, 
 While Martin, equally as brave. 
 Went limping to an honored grave, 
 
 From wounds that day. 
 
 "They fly! They fly!" No need to tell, 
 I know the meaning of that yell— 
 
 The crest is won. 
 "Won, did you say?" Aye won and lost, 
 Won at such a fearful cost, 
 
 To hold it none. 
 
 Overwhelmed by sheer brute force alone 
 The greatest charge the world has known 
 
 Was at an end ; 
 The driven foe again returned 
 And held the crest by valor earned, 
 
 But to defend 
 
 And not pursue, Lee's name today 
 Meade's mighty army holds at bay. 
 
 Nor will he dare 
 Attack that wasted, shattered line, 
 Still standing there without a sign 
 
 Or trace of fear. 
 
 Oh, pitying Heaven! Why not shield 
 The heroes of this gory field? 
 
 In heaps they he. 
 By grape shot torn, by ball and shell. 
 The cannon's boom their fun'ral knell, 
 
 Their pall the sky. 
 
 Behold the smoke of battle rise 
 In columns dense ascend the skies, 
 
 Fit fun'ral pall. 
 As if the sadden'd eye of day 
 His briUiant glance would veil away. 
 
 Nor see them fall. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 They cannot die while valor moves 
 One to defend the land he loves 
 
 In every age ; 
 Aye, will this glorious deed be told 
 In words that never can grow cold 
 
 On history's page. 
 
 Mourn, Virginia! from thy roll 
 Was stricken many a princely soul 
 
 Whose deeds excel 
 Those knights of old. It will be sung 
 And told how soldiers hearts were wrung. 
 
 When Armistead fell. 
 
 Fell as he overleapt the wall, 
 With face to foe, beyond recall 
 
 Or hope of aid. 
 Sons of Virginia, ye must see 
 the memories of such as he 
 
 Shall never fade. 
 
 Traitors ! Perish such a thought ! 
 Such men could not be treason taught ; 
 
 Oh, never, never ! 
 Tis out of such heroic dust 
 The tree of freedom springs, and must 
 
 Do so forever. 
 
 Oh, that the grand Homeric muse. 
 Inspired now, she would transfuse 
 
 In song sublime 
 This matchless deed, and send it down. 
 E'er growing in glory and renown, 
 
 To end of time. 
 
 DIXIE—THE SONG 
 
 It sings the thrilHng story of scores of gory fields, 
 The Southron's song of glory, the lay of locking shields, 
 Of heroes overpowered, whose courage never yields. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 It sings of comrades sharring when days of battle rose 
 As that of brave men daring the myriads of the foes, 
 Sang birthday of a nation, sang requiem at its close. 
 
 It sings for those who loved it when vollied thunders 
 
 flew. 
 Of Forrest, Lee and Jackson, of Ashby and Fitzhugh, 
 Of Cleburne, Hood and Morgan, of Bee and Pettigrew . 
 
 The hissing sound of bullets, the shrieking of the shells 
 The loud huzzas of Yankees, the roar of Southern yells, 
 Come back when Vet'ran hears it, and his old bosom 
 swells. 
 
 Above the din of battle it rings out loud and clear. 
 And Southern soldiers hailed it always with rousing 
 
 cheer. 
 No other song as Dixie to them was half so dear. 
 
 Its notes are still triumphant, it never knew defeat. 
 Out-living Appomattox, still rings its music sweet, 
 When South's surviving heroes in lov'd re-unions meet. 
 
 The scent of orange blossoms seems mingling with its 
 
 strains. 
 The fields of rice and cotton, the waving sugar canes, 
 The sweets of Southern roses, the verdure of its plains. 
 
 The beauteous Southern maidens, who in the long ago. 
 In doorways, windows cheered us while speeding to 
 
 the foe. 
 We see in hearing "Dixie" 'tis why we love it so. 
 
 Our battle hymn of freedom, it sanctifies the scars, 
 And deaths of Southern freemen beneath the Stars 
 
 and Bars, 
 And not a note of treason its matchless music mars. 
 
 Live on great song forever, thou Southern Marsellaise, 
 Make future tyrants tremble, pursuing wicked ways. 
 Enkindling Torch of Freedom into splendor with thy 
 blaze. 
 
10 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 JEB STUART 
 
 A knight of medieval days, 
 
 Of chivalry's estate, 
 A heroe of the minstrers lays 
 
 Born centuries too late. 
 
 Jeb Stuart touched the Southern heart 
 
 In his own winning way. 
 So chivalrous his warlike art, 
 
 So graceful was his sway. 
 
 High mettled steeds and lovely dames, 
 War, music, laughter, love, 
 
 His master-passions, aye his flames, 
 All other things above. 
 
 Ah, had he liv'd in those high days. 
 When Ceour de Lion rose. 
 
 All poets would have sung his praise 
 In rhyme as well as prose. 
 
 Have entered lists and made defense, 
 
 Nay, ev'n dared to die. 
 For some fair injur'd innocence. 
 
 Who won him with a sigh. 
 
 And yet at times the martial soul 
 Of Stuart mounted higher 
 
 Than mere romance, and broke control 
 Of fanciful desire. 
 
 His cheery voice rang out then. 
 
 As did his bugle call ; 
 His daring spirit filled his men. 
 
 Made heroes of them all. 
 
 And when the tide of battle rolFd 
 
 Along in blood and fire. 
 He was the boldest of the bold. 
 
 And never seem'd to tire. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 11 
 
 It comes at last and Stuart falls, 
 
 As Ashby fell before. 
 The music of his bugle calls 
 
 His soul will charm no more. 
 
 Sleep loving heart, we fain would place 
 Immortelles on thy grave. 
 
 So true, so full of martial grace. 
 So chivalrous, so brave. 
 
 THE DYING CONFEDERATE SOLDIER 
 
 Founded on a true incident of the war between the 
 States. 
 
 The sun had sunk behind the hills, so late with cannon 
 
 riven. 
 And picks and spades were busy now that burial may 
 
 be given 
 To thousands of their comrades that day in battle slain 
 Whose bodies, unprotected, lay mangled on the plain, 
 Away on yonder hill- top a House of Healing stood. 
 Where arm and legs were saw'd off as quickly as it 
 
 could 
 Be done by army surgeons (God bless them ev'ry one) 
 Whose work with saw and bandage at night had just 
 
 begun. 
 
 Upon a scanty pallet a stern old soldier lay. 
 Who rav'd and curs'd the Yankee who shot his leg away 
 But near me at the window, on "stretcher" at my side 
 Their lay another soldier, and this is how he died. 
 
 Twas in the burning summer, the moon was at its 
 height, 
 
 And shown in at the window with weird and ghostly 
 light 
 
 Upon the pallid faces of dead and dying there. 
 
 And there were phantom shadows seen dancing every- 
 where. 
 
12 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Between the moans of anguish the intervals of pain, 
 I heard one humming softly a sweet familiar strain, 
 That hymn of all the helpless, ''Jesus Lover of My Soul" 
 Twas if a sound from Heaven thro, "House of Heal- 
 ing" stole 
 And then the awful silence that follow'd made me feel. 
 That God had heard in Heaven this pitiful appeal, 
 I iisten'd long to hear it, it came to me no more. 
 The lips were sealed that sung it, his soul had gone 
 "before." 
 
 The Soldier on the "stretcher" at window by my side, 
 I turn to him to tell you the way in which he died, 
 I saw his lips were moving in whisper'd, earnest prayer 
 As if his soul was sueing for God's sweet mercy there, 
 Thank God ! I was mistaken as sequel now will show. 
 This soldier was a christian and had been long ago, 
 'Twas not the fear of dying that made him thus to pray 
 He pray'd for those who loved him and who were far 
 away. 
 
 Ere long the moonlight faded, and day began to dawn. 
 And soon night's sable curtain was silently withdrawn. 
 Upon his scanty pallet the stem old soldier lay. 
 Lay there his body only, his soul had pass'd away. 
 The soldier on the "stretcher" his life was in him yet. 
 But sun of his existence, Alas ! was nearly set. 
 There came to him at day-light, a youth fifteen or more 
 Came to the stretcher weeping, and knelt upon the floor, 
 "Ah, Benny! darHng boy" why do you moan and cry? 
 Oh ! Papa ! Papa ! Papa ! How can I see you die ? 
 "For down here Mother sent me, told me to bring you 
 
 home. 
 As soon as you were able and you will never come. 
 
 Told me to come and help you in ev'ry way you need. 
 And now what I must tell her, her very heart will bleed 
 "Cheer up" Benny, cheer up do not lament me so 
 I am all right up yonder and not afraid to go. 
 All night I have been praying that God would shield 
 and care 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 13 
 
 For mother and her lov'd ones and He has heard my 
 
 prayer. 
 Ben ! were my hves a thousand instead of only one, 
 I'd give them to my country, as freely as IVe done 
 The one you see me yielding without a trace of fear. 
 To win my country's freedom nor is the price too dear. 
 
 And now my words at parting, remember and revere 
 The Cause for which I'm dying, and hold it ever dear 
 And now, farewell my boy ! for I am nearly done. 
 But ere my breath shall leave me there is one thing, 
 
 only one. 
 Go home and tell your mother whom I no more shall see 
 Tell her to show to others, a courage worthy me, 
 Tell her I lov'd my country, and bore its banner high, 
 Upon the field of battle, and dar'd for it to die. 
 
 He ceas'd, his voice fail'd him but over his noble face 
 There stole a smile of gladness, as if the Prince of 
 
 Peace 
 Himself had bid him welcome to His resplendent sphere 
 As He will say to others who do their duty here. 
 
 "PAT CLEBURNE AND HIS DIVISION" 
 
 Cleburne ! Prince of daring souls, 
 Pride of the true and brave. 
 Thy valor history extols, 
 Thy glory crowns the grave. 
 
 Thy brave division won its way 
 To fame by valor's grace. 
 Which makes e'en Balaklava's Day, 
 Seem tame and commonplace. 
 
 Ah, Franklin sad, what mem'ries rise 
 At mention of thy name, 
 'Tis here heroic Cleburne dies 
 In all his spotless fame. 
 
14 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 His brave line waver'd not at all 
 Beneath that leaden hail, 
 It simply died — death can forestall 
 And make the bravest fail. 
 
 But grander height is his today, 
 Than one you sought to wrest, 
 Each man of thine a Marshal, Ney, 
 And each one glory's guest. 
 
 ^JEFFERSON DAVIS 
 
 He stands in history alone, unique, distinct, apart, 
 The very pathos of whose throne still touches every 
 heart. 
 
 The solitary ruler he, of millions of brave men. 
 Whose mighty struggle to be free will be recorded when 
 The principles for which they fought in future days 
 
 arise 
 Eternal as the race itself, aye one which never dies. 
 
 A soul as white as Alpine snow, a life without a stain, 
 "And men may come and men may go," but Davis will 
 remain. 
 
 His calm heroic soul withstood the infamy of chains. 
 By one whose base ignoble act his life and record stains 
 Avenging history will require the wrong he suffers now 
 And place the mark of shame aright on his traducer's 
 brow. 
 
 THE RAG OF TREASON 
 
 (So called by a Northern Speaker) 
 
 Call it "Rag of Treason" call it what you may. 
 Its honor and its glory will never fade away ; 
 A Lee and Stonewall Jackson bore it in triumph high, 
 The world's best men have lov'd it and dar'd for it to 
 die. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 15 
 
 How grand it waved in battle, tho' torn by shot and 
 
 shell 
 And fluttered to the music of Southern soldier's yell; 
 It never knew dishonor, on any battle field, 
 Nor was its glory tarnished when numbers made it 
 
 yield. 
 
 Fair hands of Southern ladies prepar'd it for the brave, 
 The hearts of Southern heroes made it in triumph wave 
 Manassas, Appomatox, all true to such a trust, 
 No coward ever bore it, or traiPd it in the dust. 
 
 Beneath this Southern Banner the peerless Ashby rode 
 Within whose ardent bosom the love of country glow'd. 
 The bold, yet youthful Pelham, the music of whose 
 
 guns 
 Was heard with martial joy by Alabama's sons. 
 
 Fitz Lee, the gay and gallant, the dashing cavalier. 
 And Hampton, Southern Bayard, above reproach or 
 
 fear 
 And Pettigrew and Pender beneath the Stars and Bars 
 Showed Carolina's mettle, and shone as battle-stars. 
 
 And scores of other leaders whom fond affection holds, 
 Did battle for their country and died beneath its folds, 
 A "Rag of Treason !" perish such an ignoble thought, 
 For not a single traitor beneath it ever fought. 
 
 BEFORE AND AFTER 
 
 Suggested by the Gettysburg Re-union in July, 1913. 
 The summer night was warm and bright, 
 And rich with gems of Heaven's light 
 Aadromeda and blood-red Mars 
 Sweet empire shar'd with other stars. 
 No vagrant breath of am'rous air, 
 Disturb'd the sleeping heroes there. 
 If dreams they had, their dreams were bom 
 Of battle on the coming morn. 
 
16 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 The morning comes, none ever came 
 More fateful in the dreadful game 
 We know as war, up rose the sun. 
 Red as the work 'twill shine upon 
 Ere it declines, yet be it said 
 Ere it shall find its Western bed 
 That glory came to Blue and Gray 
 Enough for both to last for aye. 
 
 The Night of July 3rd, 1863 
 
 In such a time as rang the chime 
 
 So fateful in the minstrel's rhyme 
 
 When from the fleecy clouds she rose 
 
 In all the charms she may disclose 
 
 The moon her crescent lustre shed 
 
 Upon the dying and the dead 
 
 Beneath her lay that proud array 
 
 That on the day with spirit gay 
 
 And faces flushed, or wreath'd in smiles 
 
 Had charg'd those mass'd, protected files 
 
 Of Blue, that with a stubborn will 
 
 Met them on yon contested hill, 
 
 Here had they courted death with cheers, 
 
 (Enough to move an angeFs tears.) 
 
 Night of July 3rd, 1913. 
 
 The screaming shell, the ringing yell. 
 
 The loud huzzahs that rose and fell 
 
 No more invade this peaceful dell 
 
 Between those ridges, ev'rywhere 
 
 Peace reigns, tho' Blue and Gray are there. 
 
 Aye, bivouacking side by side 
 On field where their brave comrades died ; 
 No more around the trampled ground 
 The cohorts wheel, no more shall sound 
 The tell-tale guns, the awful roar 
 Of conflict, battle, nevermore 
 The trumpet's hoarse, defiant bray 
 When brother would his brother slay 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 17 
 
 The grass now grows, the South wind blows 
 Upon this field where friends, not foes, 
 Have met together and to bind 
 This glorious Union heart and mind 
 Fragrance and loveliness once more 
 The ruffled elements shall pour 
 While from her run the green earth showers 
 The sweet oblivion of her flowers. 
 And sections, once in dread array, 
 Are reconcil'd, and passed away- 
 All rancor, once as raging blood 
 Extinguished in heroic blood 
 
 In days, when questions. North and South 
 
 Were voiced at the cannon's mouth. 
 
 And settled then, agreeing quite 
 
 Each fought for what he deem'd was right. 
 
 And now resolved that nevermore, 
 
 Shall brothers shed each others gore 
 
 That North and South as heritage 
 
 Claim valor of that mighty age. 
 
 To be transmitted, no more marr'd 
 
 By prejudice, or phrases hard. 
 
 When none shall ask or misconstrue 
 
 Who wore the Gray, who wore the Blue. 
 
 Inscribed to the memory of Colonel Ashley 
 Home, whose princely generosity made his mon- 
 ument possible. 
 
 THE WOMAN OF THE SIXTIES 
 
 The woman of the sixties, oh ! how it thrills and stirs 
 All Southern hearts recalling that history of hers. 
 No artist's brush can paint it, no poet can portray, 
 Her spirit sacrificial in that heroic day. 
 
 They sing of Spartan mothers such mothers never knew 
 What women of the sixties felt called upon to do. 
 
18 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Alone for love of Southland and of its glorious cause, 
 The cause of Southern Freedom of liberties and laws. 
 
 Tho' husbands, sons and fathers, she to her country- 
 gave, 
 
 And proved herself full worthy of bravest of the brave 
 
 When sad farewells were given, she checked the rising 
 sigh 
 
 And checked the burning tear drop that sparkled in 
 her eye. 
 
 The mighty shout of victors, that made the welkin ring 
 The stubborn foe retreating that made the trumpets 
 
 sing. 
 She heard not, but in silence — she read the awful roll, 
 The list of kilFd and wounded — the battle's awful toll. 
 
 Perhaps her fair-haired boy is numbered with the slain, 
 Maybe her loving father or husband. Ah, the pain, 
 To bear all this in silence, with no one standing near 
 To soothe her in her sorrow, or stay the burning tear. 
 
 She laid aside the satins and silks she used to wear. 
 And clad herself in homespun the better to prepare 
 For scenes of pain and sorrow where sick and wounded 
 
 lay. 
 Where she like mercy's angel, car'd for them night 
 
 and day. 
 
 And her luxurious table with tempting viands spread, 
 In days of peace and plenty, now scarcely gave her 
 
 bread. 
 And still she did not murmur enough for her to know 
 She kept the men from starving who bravely fac'd the 
 
 foe. 
 
 Her home tho' it were humble, magnificent or grand. 
 
 Its doors were ever open to that heroic band. 
 Whose valor has been written on every bloody field 
 'Til overwhelming numbers alone had made them yield. 
 
LYRICS O F THE LOST CAUSE 19 
 
 And when defeat had darkened her once fair Southern 
 land, 
 
 And marks of desolation were seen on every hand, 
 
 With words of cheer and welcome, she cheer'd the bro- 
 ken hearts 
 
 Of South's surviving heroes by her sweet gentle arts. 
 
 Her fair hand plac'd the flowers above the gallant dust 
 Of those who died in battle, to her a sacred trust. 
 Oh, true heroic woman, thy memory should live 
 Forever in the tokens a grateful South can give. 
 
 Oh, Woman of the Sixties we honor thee today. 
 In monumental marble, and may it ever stay. 
 To teach our children's children, generations yet unborn 
 Thy worth commemorated by noble Ashby Home. 
 
 MEMORIAL DAY 
 
 Memorial Day — What Memories rise 
 Of stirring scenes neath Southern skies, 
 
 Long, long ago. 
 When Southrons rose with courage high. 
 And flinging banners to the sky, 
 
 Rush'd on the foe. 
 
 Oh, glorious days, when Dixie came. 
 When patriotism was aflame 
 
 In every one: 
 When greedy, grasping souls were few. 
 When men, and not the checks they drew. 
 
 Were looked upon. 
 
 Brave days! When cowardice and shame 
 Were linked together, meant the same, 
 
 And wore the brand 
 Of infamy, which ever clings 
 To him who skulks when Freedom sings, 
 
 For native land. 
 
20 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 And yet Virginia sought to stay 
 
 The storm she knew would sweep away 
 
 The ties that bound 
 This mighty Union drench with blood 
 Her sacred soil, did all she could 
 
 That peace be found. 
 
 But when she knew peace could not be, 
 Except on terms of infamy, 
 
 She did not cower; 
 'Mid perils coming fast and thick 
 She did not quail, not hers to lick 
 
 The hand of power. 
 
 And when the mandate thundered forth 
 For sons to muster with the north, 
 
 'Gainst South combine, 
 'Twere vain to ask, much less demand, 
 That this old Commonwealth should stand 
 
 In such a line. 
 
 No, No ! Virginia did disclose 
 
 The foes of Southland were her foes 
 
 In every sense. 
 Did not betray in any form. 
 But bar'd her bosom to the storm 
 
 In its defense. 
 
 Indeed, proud Old Virginia rose, 
 Unaw'd by all her myriad foes 
 
 Or war's alarms : 
 Aye, from the mountains to the sea 
 Her yeomen and her chivalry, 
 
 All sprang to arms. 
 
 Ah ! sad farewells those days were spok'n 
 As tenderest ties on earth were brok'n. 
 
 And crush'd for aye. 
 Then mothers wept and sisters cried 
 In seeing lov'd ones from their side 
 
 All torn away. 
 
LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 21 
 
 With knapsack and a suit of gray ; 
 Oh can I e*er forget that day, 
 
 Nor it recall, 
 When I a lad her voice obeyed. 
 And on Virginia's alter laid 
 
 My life, my all, 
 
 I see the long brave line of gray 
 Again this sad Memorial day 
 
 In battle line; 
 Hear trumpets sing, hear cannons roar, 
 
 Of Auld Lang Syne. 
 
 A moment more, the word is giv'n. 
 Then shook the hills as thunder riven, 
 
 With uproar dire ; 
 The bullets hiss, I feel their breath. 
 As past they speed in quest of death, 
 
 As tho' in ire. 
 
 The litter and the ambulance, 
 I see again as back I glance ; 
 
 But worse than all. 
 Mine ears respond — I hear again 
 The moan of woe, the cry of pain, 
 
 Of those who fall. 
 
 And By the moon-beam's ghostly light. 
 Slain comrade with their faces white, 
 
 Turn'd to the sky. 
 With eyes unclosed, and in whose stare 
 Still shone the light of those who dare 
 
 For us to die. 
 
 Oh, never to my latest breath 
 Can I forget these scenes of death, 
 
 And courage grand. 
 When peerless Southern valor gave 
 A glorious lesson to the brave 
 
 Of every land. 
 
22 LYRICS O F THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Aye, call them "traitors," call it "crime," 
 Yet they have made our land sublime, 
 
 And ever will, 
 For painter's skill and poet's song 
 Their deathless glory will prolong 
 
 Through ages still. 
 
 Ye sons and daughters of such sires, 
 Will ye allow the hallowed fires 
 
 That warmed their souls 
 Grow cold and dead, or even cow'r, 
 Tho' Mammon's sway or Lucre's power 
 
 The world controls ? 
 
 Thank God, the daughters still revere 
 The cause their mothers held so dear 
 
 For which they wrought ; 
 The cause of fathers who have seal'd 
 Devotion on each bloody field 
 
 On which the fought. 
 
 A few more years. Ah ! sad refrain. 
 The roll is call'd, 'tis call'd in vain. 
 
 For we no more 
 Will answer "Here" as in the past. 
 The soul survivor joins at last 
 
 All gone before. 
 
 Yet glorious Southern Womanhood, 
 Which ever stands for what is good. 
 
 These can we trust. 
 Dear Comrades, when we leave this scene. 
 To guard and keep our mem'ry green, 
 
 When we are dust. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 23 
 
 Pettigrew's Division, as Seen From Cemetery 
 
 Ridge in the Battle of Gettysburg, 
 
 July 3rd 1863. 
 
 "What men are those in jackets gray, 
 With Banners torn ,that come this way 
 
 Across the plain? 
 Who make no pause, without a break 
 Save gaps the Union cannon make, 
 Which close at once as comrades take 
 
 The place of slain ? 
 
 No need to ask, Meade's army knew 
 How brave, how chivalrous, how true 
 Are those led on by Pettigrew 
 
 This fateful day. 
 Heroes who fought at Gaines's Mill, 
 Heroes, who charged at Malvern Hill, 
 
 Aye, these are they. 
 
 "Will they not pause, will they not quail, 
 When front and flank you both assail V* 
 
 No not at all. 
 For naught but death, aye death alone 
 Can halt these heroes rushing on 
 
 This rocky wall." 
 
 And now the voUied thunders flew 
 That swept the ranks of Pettigrew 
 
 With carnage dire. 
 Tho' cannons roar like blasts from Hell 
 And muskets roar with hissing shell. 
 They rush en with defiant yells 
 
 And dare that fire. 
 
 The wall is reached. Alas ! how few 
 Of those who charg'd with Pettigrew 
 Across that plain 
 
24 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Are left to tell the thrilling story 
 Of Carolina's deathless glory — 
 Her heroes slain. 
 
 Mourn Carolina, mourn the most 
 For sons in that heroic host 
 
 Who died for you. 
 Love seal'd in blood, the records show 
 No greater loss, no braver foe 
 Than were thy sons, who dar'd to go 
 
 With Pettigrew. 
 
 Thy Twenty-Sixth, eight hundred strong, 
 (Oh, e'er in story and in song 
 
 This should excel) 
 Eight hundred when the charge begun, 
 But eighty when the charge was done, 
 
 Seven hundred fell. 
 
 Ye sons and daughters of such sires, 
 Will ye allow heroic fires 
 
 That warm'd their souls. 
 To go unsung in sordid age 
 Tho' money's sway and Mammon's rage 
 The world controls. 
 
 ^ THE "GRAND OLD SILENT SOLDIER" 
 
 Grand Old Silent Soldier, thy memory we revere. 
 As of a foe, though bitter, yet as a friend sincere, 
 For when at Appomattox, when horrors of defeat 
 Had settled down upon us, and ruin was complete. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 25 
 
 When army of Virginia no longer could oppose, 
 With its battalions wasted, the myriads of its foes, 
 Compelled by circumstances its glorious flag to lower, 
 That flag so oft in triumph, which it had borne before. 
 
 Ah, well do we remember the sorrows of that hour. 
 When Lee's once mighty army was wholly in thy power ; 
 And yet no exultation, no shouts of triumph rose, 
 Aye, no humiliation for honorable foes. 
 
 Lee's sword, you would not take it, had it been offered 
 
 thee, 
 'Twas guarantee sufficient — the word of Robert Lee, 
 Though tactiturn and silent, as was thy want, that 
 
 day. 
 One sentiment you uttered that cannot pass away. 
 
 'Twas, "Take your horses. Boys, for you will need them 
 
 now. 
 Go back to your plantations, and hitch them to the plow, 
 'Tis time for early sowing, for season is at hand, 
 When you can utilize it, and cultivate the land." 
 
 "Spare, oh, spare the vanquished," Great Hannibal did 
 
 cry 
 As he surveyed the slaughter of Romans at Cannae : 
 Thus did this grand soldier, great Ulysees S. Grant, 
 As he beheld Lee's army, with march and famine gaunt. 
 
 Hence "Grand Old Silent Soldier!" we join in just ac- 
 claim. 
 
 That evermore will waft thee to honor and to fame, 
 
 As one who twice had conquored Lee's brave, heroic 
 host 
 
 By arms and then by kindness, when "Southern Cause" 
 was lost. 
 
 And when at last, affliction, both cruel and severe, 
 Had laid its hand upon thee, and death was drawing 
 
 near 
 Our Southern hearts, in pity, went out in grief for thee 
 As one to be remembered along with peerless Lee. 
 
26 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 JACKSON AND FOREST 
 
 Forest the peerless, genius immense, 
 Impersonation of war's common-sense. 
 Perfection in planning, unerring in blow. 
 The true test of power, the rout of the foe. 
 
 Jackson on horse-back. Southern Murat, 
 Whose aim was success, not dazzling eclat, 
 Cyclonic in action, vain to resist — 
 Whatever he aim'd at, blow never missed. 
 
 Jackson and Forest, twin battle-stars. 
 Infantry, cavalry, defeat never mars. 
 The science of war each saw at a glance. 
 Knew when to await and when to advance. 
 
 Napoleon at Lodi, saving the day, 
 Hannibal charging at awful Cannae, 
 Forerunners of both, each cast in the mould 
 Of genius surpassing, far-seeing and bold. 
 
 Not born to obey, but theirs to demand 
 Each, freedom of playing his masterful hand. 
 Both chaffiing with shackles, both pin'd to be free, 
 Unhindered in striking their blow when they see 
 
 The enemy's weakness, held in restraint 
 When foemen were beaten and ready to faint. 
 At fierce Chickamauga, see Forrest's "gorge rise" 
 As martinet holds him from seizing the prize. 
 
 Aye, held in restraint like a lion at bay. 
 And eager to spring, yet losing the prey. 
 Small wonder the wrath, of the Titan arose 
 When weakling allowed th' escape of his foes 
 
 The pride of two armies in dust are ye now. 
 Yet garlands of glory encircle each brow. 
 And the nations of earth have no greater name, 
 Than Jackson, or Forrest in their temples of fame 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 27 
 
 GETTYSBURG— The Second 
 
 We meet again, the Blue and Gray, 
 
 Not as we met before. 
 As foes in battle's stem array, 
 
 But brothers evermore. 
 
 The loud huzzah, the ringing yell, 
 
 Like two opposing seas 
 Of voices, no longer swell. 
 
 Defiant on the breeze. 
 
 But Blue and Gray commingle now 
 
 And show to all that live, 
 Yes, show to all the world just how. 
 
 Brave soldiers can forgive. 
 
 The flag that floats on yonder height. 
 
 That flag is mine today. 
 The emblem of our nation's might, 
 
 And that it came to stay. 
 
 See yonder hill, both long and large, 
 
 There fifty years agone. 
 Brave Pickett's men made greatest charge 
 
 The world has ever known. 
 
 Seen thro' the mist of vanish'd years. 
 
 Emotions deep and strong. 
 Come over me; I write in tears 
 
 That fain would blur my song 
 
 That courage such as theirs should fail 
 
 That valor such should lose. 
 That fate against them should prevail, 
 
 And victory refuse. 
 
 'Twas best, we see it thus today. 
 
 Such valor was not lost, 
 This glorious Union came to stay 
 
 In spite of any cost. 
 
28 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Both sides were true to what was right, 
 
 Seen by opposing eyes, 
 Twas this that nerved their hearts to fight 
 
 And die to win the prize. 
 
 United now, let rancor cease. 
 
 And brothers all agree 
 To win the victories of peace, 
 
 On land as well as sea. 
 
 The Starry Banner, let us love. 
 That thousands died to save 
 And thank the Lord it waves above 
 A people free and brave. 
 
 K ROBERT EDWARD LEE 
 
 As softening centuries come and go. 
 
 His fame will but the greater grow, 
 
 The prestige of his spotless name 
 
 His country will be proud to claim. 
 
 The North, the South, the East, the West. 
 
 Alike will honor Lee, the best. 
 
 The highest, noblest type of man. 
 
 Yet genuine American. 
 
 In war a sword without a stain. 
 
 In peace so gentle and humane, 
 
 That hostile critics were unarmed, 
 
 And prais'd the man they would have harmed. 
 
 His name, as moveless as the base 
 
 Of yonder mountain from its place, 
 
 Lee, an immortal, cannot die, 
 
 Fix'd star in fame's eternal sky. 
 
 Where none will ever brighter be 
 
 Than name of Robert Edward Lee. 
 
 OPEN YOUR COLLAR! JIM! 
 
 "Old Jim" was "up" for murder, and color of his skin 
 Was fearfully suggestive of nature of his sin, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 29 
 
 And when the prosecution, with argument was done, 
 "The negro must be guilty" concluded ev'ry one. 
 Then rose and old confederate, whose bent and wasted 
 
 form, 
 And empty sleeve spoke mutely of battle's awful storm 
 "Your Honor ! if you please Sir ! a word I'd like to say. 
 In prisoners behalf Sir ! before I go away," 
 Speak out said His Honor for day will never be 
 When any ex-Confederate appeals in vain to me 
 My hand forget its cunning, my tongue cleave to my 
 
 mouth, 
 Ere I deny a hero who battled for the South. 
 
 "Your Honor !" in the "sixties" that negro at the bar 
 Went joyfully with me and brother to the war. 
 And he was true to South Sir ! as needle to the pole, 
 For on the day of battle he answered to the roll. 
 And fought for it as bravely as any man could do 
 When hissing shells were flying and deadly bullets too, 
 Well Sir! down at Franklin, my brother wounded lay. 
 Between the lines of battle upon that awful day 
 And no one dar'd to venture, or face the fearful fire. 
 To bring him back to safety, tho' it were their desire. 
 Forgive me, I forget Sir! the one who dar'd to go 
 In spite of leaden hail Sir ! now coming from the foe. 
 The prisoner before you, 'twas he upon that day 
 Leapt o'er the wall and ran sir ! to where my brother lay 
 Altho' a piece of shell. Sir! near tore his breast away. 
 He took him in his arms. Sir! tho' bleeding from his 
 
 wound. 
 The blood of each, commingling and falling to the 
 
 ground. 
 And brought him back to safety, and I may say to life, 
 For he surviv'd the battle and liv'd beyond the strife, 
 And Jim's poor life today Sir ! why I would hazard mine 
 To save him from the galloAvs, that punishment con- 
 dign. 
 Your Honor! Jim's not guilty in any moral sense. 
 He would not kill a fly Sir ! except in self-defense. 
 I've known him all his life Sir ! and I can testify 
 
30 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 "That Jim's too good a ''nigger!" just like a dog to die, 
 Now, open your collar, "Jimmy!" and let the jury see 
 The proof of love and valor, and they will set you free, 
 Then Jim he rose up slowly, and laid his 'oosom bare. 
 Once torn and rent and bleeding, the cruel scars were 
 
 there. 
 And then forthwith the jury spoke up there and then, 
 "The prisoner is not guilty. Your Honor ! gentlemen. 
 Poor old Jim he spoke not, but down his withered face. 
 The burning tears were stealing, his scars had won his 
 
 case. 
 
 THE GRAVE OF PETTIGREW 
 
 In soil of sweet Bonarva, 'mid scenes 
 
 his childhood knew. 
 In the land of those who loved him is 
 
 grave of Pettigrew. 
 
 Ye sons of Carolina, this sacred spot 
 
 revere. 
 For history has written, a hero's dust is 
 
 here. 
 
 From list of shining heroes, base envy cannot 
 
 sever. 
 In fame's bright constellation his star will 
 
 shine forever. 
 
 Before the day of action he saw with vision 
 
 keen. 
 The coming of the conflict and battle's 
 
 bloody scene. 
 
 He laid aside the studies, prepared for 
 
 peaceful days. 
 And made himself familiar with war and 
 
 all its ways. 
 
 And when the North determined the South 
 to over-ride, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 81 
 
 He drew his sword to shield her, nor sheathed 
 it till he died. 
 
 And as the tide of battle rolFd on in blood 
 
 and fire, 
 The star of his bright genius rose higher 
 
 and yet higher, 
 
 Could it have reached its zenith, filled measure 
 
 of his fame. 
 Among the world's great captains had been 
 
 enrolled his name. 
 
 Alas ! at Falling Waters, the priceless hero 
 
 fell. 
 Surrounded by the legions he led and lov*d 
 
 so well. 
 
 Tho' long their forms have vanished from ev'ry 
 
 human eye. 
 Yet Pettigrew and Pickett are names 
 
 that cannot die. 
 
 He mov'd on life's high levels, and 'oreath'd 
 
 an atmosphere 
 Beyond the shafts of envy, above reproach 
 
 or fear. 
 
 I would the power of painting in words that can- 
 not die 
 
 Were mine t' immortalize him, this soldier brave 
 and high. 
 
 To live in song and story, none worthier than he. 
 
 Along with Peerless Stuart and dashing Fitzhugh 
 Lee. 
 
 Love him Carolina, in Life he honor'd you. 
 
 For ne'er within thy borders was bom a son more 
 
 true. 
 Let neither time or distance his memory obscure 
 But be it bright and honor'd in annals evermore. 
 
32 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 THE CUMBERLAND TROOPS 
 
 Inscribed to the late Dr. W. L. Robinson, of Danville, 
 Va., a member of that famous troop. 
 
 The old Cumberland Troops was organized long 
 before the war, composed of the best material in the 
 County, and as the members became too old, their 
 places were filled by their sons. From Williamsburg 
 through all the battles of Northern Virginia and Penn- 
 sylvania, including Manassas, Fredericksburg, the Wil- 
 derness, Gettysburg, Seven Pines, the raid around Mc- 
 Clellan, Cold Harbor, back to Appomattox where Lee 
 ordered them to lay down their arms, they were ever 
 present and in the thickest of the fight. At Mitchell's 
 Shop they charged ten thousand cavalry under orders 
 from Gen'l Wickham, and as I sat near the head of the 
 column and heard Wickham's order to Capt. Mathews 
 to charge down that road, when he should have known 
 the cruel absurdity of the attempt, for the 4th Virginia 
 cavalry was then coming back torn and repulsed, and 
 with our little squadron of less than 100 men to be 
 hurled into the jaws of death without any hope of 
 success seemed a cruelty unpardonable. I hear now 
 Capt. Mathews, that gallant leader, reply: "General, 
 how far do you want me to go?" **Clean through and 
 come out the other side of them," said Wickham. 
 
 THE CUMBERLAND TROOP 
 
 Vain task were his who would recount 
 All that their courage did surmount 
 In duty's line, the cannon's roar, 
 The clash of steel, fields red with gore 
 Could never turn their fearless line, 
 Or make them show one craven sign. 
 
 They, when the smoke of battle rose, 
 No laggards had, each gladly chose 
 The post of danger, with a cheer. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 33 
 
 When roll was called he answered, "Here" 
 No question ask'd save what to do 
 Nor counted foes, tho' great or few. 
 To die, if need be, at the call 
 Of duty always, one and all. 
 
 Their history written in their blood. 
 On many fields, where they withstood 
 The shock of battle, we, today 
 Should make their record last for aye. 
 
 But we must pause and emphasize 
 One daring charge, that still defies 
 Comparison, unique, alone, 
 A charge that by its record shown, 
 And tested by the light of truth. 
 Surpasses all, indeed forsooth, 
 E*en Balaklava commonplace 
 Compared to this, seen as we trace 
 Its daring features, side by side 
 With that which rouses British pride. 
 
 Mitchell's Shop! prosaic name! 
 And yet what glorious, fadeless fame. 
 Encircles it since that great hour 
 When Cumberland's chivalry and flower. 
 In squadron without hope of aid, 
 Undaunted, charged a whole brigade 
 Of chosen troopers brave and true, 
 "The bravest of the brave in Blue." 
 
 And now the clash of arms arose 
 Midst dustj obscuring friends from foes. 
 The loud huzza, the ringing yell 
 Of Southrons that we lov'd so well ; 
 The sabre's clash, the ring of steel. 
 The pistol's crack, the cannon's peal 
 Proclaim to each and ev'ry one 
 The dreadful conflict had begun. 
 
34 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 From horses swept by fearful fire 
 Brave Carter's shattered ranks retire, 
 In broken line, the moment came 
 For Cumberland's undying fame. 
 When Wickham, riding up perceives 
 The sight which a great leader grieves, 
 His broken line in wild retreat 
 Before the foe, their rout complete. 
 
 But gallant Wickham knew his men, 
 
 And turned to dauntless Matthews then, 
 
 Whose squadron in reserve to meet 
 
 The enemy, in case defeat 
 
 Should overtake him, and he said, 
 
 "Captain ! charge must now be led, 
 
 At once against the rushing foe. 
 
 Or all is lost, as well we know," 
 
 "How far, General, must I go?" 
 
 "Clear through," and though his face was pale. 
 
 Yet Mathews knew not how to quail, 
 
 At sight of odds, however great, 
 
 When battling for his native state. 
 
 "Men of Cumberland," said he, 
 
 "Think whence you are and who you be, 
 
 Remember now and follow me." 
 
 Quick as a flash with rousing cheer. 
 Forthwith they rush'd, again we hear 
 The clash of arms, the dread uproar, 
 Which but a moment ceased before, 
 Burst forth again as foes withstand 
 The peerless Troop of Cumberland. 
 
 Tho' comrades fall, yet, on they go, 
 Undaunted by the dreadful blow, 
 When their brave leader, Mathews, falls 
 His body torn by musket balls. 
 Nor did they pause, (as laggards do) 
 Til foemen's line was cloven through 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 36 
 
 A baker's dozen but remain, 
 Rest wounded, captur'd, or else slain. 
 For each one fought "As tho' 'twere he 
 On whose sole arm hung victory." 
 
 The Thrill of comradship denied 
 
 To bouy them, they fought and died 
 
 In single combat and alone, 
 
 'Gainst numbers twenty times their own. 
 
 No armies saw them to applaud, 
 
 And ev'ry act of daring laud. 
 
 No "Six Hundred," "Light Brigade," 
 
 A squadron with no hope of aid, 
 
 No mighty army in reserve. 
 
 Inspiring hope, or giving nerve 
 
 To arms that dar'd to cleave a way 
 
 Thro' serried ranks of foes that day. 
 
 j 
 
 No more of this ! it stands alone, 
 
 This peerless "charge," no glamour thrown 
 
 Around it by a poet's song. 
 
 Yet as the light beats on it strong, 
 
 In spite of all that others tell 
 
 It stands without a parallel. 
 
 "O'ercome at last," the coward cries, 
 (The base poltroon, who sells his lies,) 
 "By equal numbers" we repeat. 
 Those Troopers never knew defeat, 
 O'erwhelmed by sheer brute force alone. 
 Defeated not, but overthrown. 
 
 Indeed, there never trod the earth, 
 Trac'd backward to its very birth, 
 A Troop, or Squadron, that could boast, 
 That it had conquered such a host, 
 "With equal numbers," death alone 
 Could halt its Jine when charging on, 
 
S6 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 AT PEACE 
 
 The fallen vetVans "Blue" and "Gray' 
 Are sleeping side by side 
 Where a great nation came to stay, 
 Where a great nation died. 
 
 The loud huzza, the ringipg yell 
 
 Like two opposing seas 
 
 Of voices no longer swell 
 
 And float upon the breeze. 
 
 Shall we their memories thrust aside 
 
 In this gain-seeking age, 
 
 Our crown of glory and our pride, 
 
 From annals tear this page. 
 
 Allow thro' lapse of years or time 
 their memories to fade. 
 Oh ! this were treason, this were crime. 
 "Gainst the heroic dead. 
 
 THE MODERN UTOPIA 
 Chapter 1 
 
 Some writer says, (dispute who can) 
 The study chief of man, is man, 
 This theme, no doubt, affords a field 
 Immense to such as love to wield 
 Their talents in a varied way 
 Without regard to fame or pay. 
 
 Perhaps a few examples here 
 May serve to make the subject clear, 
 First, one in a religious light 
 Makes man his study day and night. 
 And striking on some happy hint 
 A volumn rushes into print 
 To prove by argument prodigious 
 That man's an animal religious. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 37 
 
 Says, one with scientific bent, 
 'Tis knowledge only will prevent 
 Man's falling back to savage state 
 And loudly cries out "Educate !" 
 
 Another says, 'tis "Exercise" 
 
 On battlefields make nations rise, 
 
 Perhaps it does, but after all 
 
 To make one rise must others fall, 
 
 Yet strange to say it, "none abide," 
 
 But perish all in time and tide. 
 
 Since Plato's day has never been 
 
 A lack of such ideal men. 
 
 Who have imagin'd that they saw 
 
 Perfection in a human law, 
 
 And hence, that mankind could be brought 
 
 To do just right, as sure they ought. 
 
 No need to delve far in the past 
 For proof of this, we have at last, 
 A full and very modem date 
 On which we may expatiate 
 Ad libitum, nor be denied 
 We liv'd while theory was tried. 
 
 For instance, Europe growing old. 
 Became too small for it to hold 
 Its population, in a strait 
 To save it from Malthusian fate. 
 As luck would have it in the "nick" 
 Of time Discov'ry tum'd the trick 
 By finding to the West there lay 
 Another World, tho' far away. 
 
 Yet none too far for famishe'd souls 
 Who dream of land where plenty rolls, 
 A continent, a world wherein 
 All theorizers could begin 
 Anew with nothing in the way 
 To hinder, as in Plato's day. 
 
38 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 For sure, another chance was giv'n 
 Once more to turn the world to Heav'n, 
 Where human beings could be brought 
 To full perfection, human thought 
 UntramemeFd, free at once could find 
 Republic of Platonian mind. 
 
 Hail Mighty Era! which consigned 
 Another world in which mankind 
 In what in Old they fail'd to do 
 They might accomplish in the new. 
 For are not all new worlds intended 
 To show where old ones can be mended. 
 In full concurrence with this scheme 
 Which tallies with the poet's dream, 
 And adds immense eclat and glory 
 To certain styles of oratory 
 By which the world has been upset. 
 And "all the fools are not dead yet." 
 
 Greek Plato first on fancy drew 
 
 For State ideal, which is true 
 And practically had been no doubt 
 The one enthusiasts rave about, 
 And tho* a failure, Plato's plan. 
 Will never lose its weight with man 
 For modem sages yet maintain 
 Tis feasible, and would explain. 
 Nay fairly clinch it when they say 
 "The fault alone was Plato's day." 
 
 *Tis time to note the varied range 
 Of ideas which the change 
 This wonderful Discovery wrought 
 In all the realms of human thought ; 
 The grasping miser dream'd at night 
 Of heaps of gold and jewels bright. 
 Adventurers foresaw a field. 
 Which would enough excitement yield. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 3d 
 
 To tempt them now beyond the wave 
 
 Where glory waits, or heroes grave ; 
 
 Ambitious souls also gave way 
 
 To dazzling dreams of regal sway 
 
 Wherein no formidable foe 
 
 Would dare confront with battle's show ; 
 
 For mark you, it is best to trace 
 
 A line or two of a great race 
 
 Who in Utopia lived before 
 
 A white man's foot was on its shore ; 
 
 A crafty and a cruel race, 
 
 Who liv'd by hunting and by chase. 
 
 Uncivilized, unskilled, untaught, 
 
 Yet capable of lofty thought. 
 
 To conquer them mere bagatelle, 
 And yet 'twould answer just as well, 
 For sure success is all the same, 
 Tho' foes be fierce, or foes be tame. 
 Provided ocean's roll between 
 One's home and a far distant scene, 
 And one may say, and have no fears. 
 None lie like foreign travelers. 
 Concerning shores, which they alone 
 Have ever seen or ever known. 
 Example, Caesar's Commentaries, 
 How widely from the truth he varies 
 We cannot tell, nor will, since Gaul 
 To contradict left naught at all, 
 "Enchantment," not alone "to mounts," 
 Does distance lend, but fierce accounts 
 Of dreadful battles never fought. 
 Of deeds of daring never wrought, 
 'Tis useless to suspect a He 
 Without the proof to "nail" it by ; 
 Or seek to soil established fame 
 Unless you nullify the same. 
 And hence the most of history 
 Is but an undisputed lie. 
 
40 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 I must return, 'tis my intent 
 To stick to history, nor invent 
 Some other things than one in hand— 
 The progress of Utopian Land. 
 
 The Model Grand, the first of all 
 
 That hither came "went to the wall," 
 
 Tho' to construct, expound, explain, 
 
 Required Europe's biggest brain. 
 
 Meanwhile Utopia became 
 
 Asylum for the poor and lame 
 
 The impotent, who hitherto. 
 
 Had stayed at home with naught to do. 
 
 Except in jails to pine away 
 
 For debts which they could never pay. 
 
 While noble scamps were hither sent 
 
 In exile, or in banishment. 
 
 Since Monarchs deeded States away 
 
 To them for fear they would not stay, 
 
 Beyond all doubt such crowd before 
 
 Had never flocked to any shore. 
 
 Of course, in such a motley state 
 
 Tis needful to discriminate 
 
 If we would follow by the line 
 
 We mapp'd out in this great design 
 
 Of full perfection, when the chance 
 
 Was given man by circumstance. 
 
 And how "world-beaters" would disport 
 
 Themselves without a King or Court 
 
 To hinder them so far away. 
 
 What they might either do or say 
 
 Of no account, but each one still 
 
 Could have his way as well as will 
 
 For absent Monarchs hold him true. 
 
 Who pays the tribute when 'tis due 
 
 This being settled we proceed 
 
 And give to each and all his meed; 
 
 And first, the churchly man divin'd 
 
 His mission was the savage mind. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 41 
 
 So, leaving home with godly flock 
 He landed on a barren rock, 
 In wilderness, and 'gan to preach 
 To savages, also to teach 
 A blind belief in iron creed 
 Out-worn, but new to one in need. 
 This blessing, too, with many others. 
 He bore to his benighted brothers, 
 And who in case of non-compliance 
 With his desire, or defiance 
 Of such a gospel, and upset 
 The rules of christian etiquette, 
 Tho' to the marvelous inclined, 
 If still the simple, savage mind 
 Refuses Gospel of this kind. 
 And clings to gods of wood and stone, 
 And will not worship One Unknown, 
 Why in this case, of course the church 
 Would never leave him in the lurch. 
 But as its motto was "Success," 
 Utopia was one savage less. 
 That is, preferred the lesser evil 
 Of sending one man to the devil 
 To save the rest, why it is plain 
 The Church's motive was humane. 
 
 And still Utopia wax'd and grew 
 Despite what doctrinaires could do. 
 Grew strong enough ere long and broke 
 The chains that bound to foreign yoke. 
 Which left the field, entire clean 
 For new beginning on this scene. 
 Of course Utopia's foremost men, 
 To use a phrase, "got busy then," 
 Some wanted Government so strong. 
 That people to it should belong. 
 Not it to them, *til it became 
 A monarchy except in name. 
 While others taught and taught it well. 
 Why should Utopia rebel 
 
42 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 'Gainst foreign yoke, yet build anew 
 One like the one they broke in too. 
 
 "Tho* long to tell, and sad to trace 
 Each step from glory to disgrace,'' 
 Yet this is easier than to find 
 The motives of the human mind, 
 For instance in the present case 
 What motive could you ever place 
 In hearts of men, whose blood was shed 
 On battlefields by patriots led 
 Against the foe, then turn around 
 For slavery on native ground. 
 Mistrust the people, tell me please. 
 Do tyrants teach aught else than these, 
 Yet they were patriots, can we doubt 
 Their motives were the best without 
 Impeaching lives that had been spent 
 In perils for free government. 
 And they prevailed, Utopia 
 Began again. Organic Law 
 With "powers implied" to forge a yoke 
 More hateful than the one they broke. 
 
 God raises men the Scriptures teach 
 
 To do His will and nobly preach 
 
 Without regard to fear or fate 
 
 'Gainst errors both in Church and State, 
 
 So now he "rais'd up" man and sage, 
 
 Who was the marvel of his age, 
 
 A myriad-minded man who saw 
 
 Results of having too much Law, 
 
 Who taught that government should be 
 
 The servant, and the people free, 
 
 And dar'd in spite of ev'ry ban 
 
 To teach equality of man. 
 
 Free press, free speech, aye everything 
 
 That is distasteful to a king 
 
 To worship God, which bigots hate, 
 
 Just as one's conscience should dictate, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CASUE 43 
 
 Or not at all, provided he 
 
 Left others equally as free, 
 
 That titles should be disallowed 
 
 In all Utopia, men be proud 
 
 Of more ennobling things than those 
 
 A wicked monarch oft bestows 
 
 On such alone as win their fame 
 
 By a defence of monarch's shame. 
 
 For giving forth such views as those 
 
 Loud cries of "Leveler" arose. 
 
 And ev'ry vulgar compliment 
 
 Their rage and malice could invent, 
 
 A modern Cataline, who stood 
 
 For all that's evil, nothing good, 
 
 Yet bravely, calm'ly, without rage 
 
 He held his own until the age 
 
 In which he lived was brought around 
 
 And saw his doctrine good and sound. 
 
 Embraced it 'til his rivals saw 
 
 Him Ruler of Utopia, 
 
 Where by career of great designs 
 
 His name in full orb'd splendid shines. 
 
 As events great before us rise, 
 'Tis time at least to specialize. 
 Now bear in mind two people's great 
 Inhabited Utopian State. 
 
 Two types of man and far apart 
 On what they had in mind and in heart ; 
 One liv'd where tropics all but glow, 
 The other in the realms of snow 
 Two-thirds well nigh of ev'ry year. 
 The other full of warmth and cheer. 
 But climate never can account 
 For racial difference, nor surmount 
 Obstacles one is forc'd to face 
 In solving problems of a race, 
 Tho', in the main, we may conclude 
 "The cold in clime, are cold in blood," 
 
44 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Hence, two ideals wide apart, 
 Divided them in mind and heart ; 
 The one would ape the Cavalier 
 And try to prove his title clear. 
 Not to a mansion in the skies 
 But one that stood before his eyes 
 A gentleman, whose pedigree 
 Was noble made beyond the sea, 
 Where Battle Abbeys witness bear 
 Ancestors were some "pumpkins" there, 
 If not over here, and hence they mov'd 
 Along the lines ancestors lov'd ; 
 A life of ease, abhorring toil, 
 Tho' mainly owners of the soil. 
 Plantations almost without bounds, 
 A splendid house, a pack of hounds. 
 An overseer, slaves "galore'* 
 (Could any monarch wish for more.) 
 
 Of course, beneath such system sprung. 
 
 Two types of men, the weak, the strong. 
 
 The "poor white trash" without pretence 
 
 To anything but indigence ; 
 
 No wonder that the first despised. 
 
 All menial labor, serviliz'd. 
 
 The horny handed sons of toil 
 
 Regarded as their lawful spoil. 
 
 Upon whose stalwart backs to ride 
 
 To place and power in their pride. 
 
 While "poor white trash" with hat in hand 
 
 Were curtly told aside to stand, 
 
 In fact the latter stood in awe 
 
 Of all the royalty they saw. 
 
 Yet out of such conditions grew. 
 
 As I have said, men great and true, 
 
 Who struck the chains of privilege 
 
 And shackles from a slavish age. 
 
 And doctrines taught that time has shown 
 
 The best the world has ever known, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 45 
 
 Aye taught, unknown since world began, 
 The glorious brotherhood of man. 
 
 But chapter second will relate 
 And give the picture of a State 
 Where an opposing type of man 
 First landed here, and then began 
 To mould and fashion right away. 
 Their scheme of an Utopian day, 
 And therefore without more ado, 
 We^l let that Chapter speak to you. 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND 
 
 About three hundred years ago, 
 
 As old colonial records show. 
 
 There sprung in these remoter ages. 
 
 One of the wisest of the sages, 
 
 Who ever at a venture drew 
 
 A plan of State or kingdom new. 
 
 Yet ere his story must be told, 
 
 Some patent truths should be unroll d, 
 
 Which greatly will elucidate 
 
 His pohcy as to the State. , 
 
 This first, then, must be borne m mmd. 
 
 By those who wish to serve mankmd, 
 
 That no invention can compete 
 
 With those producing bread and meat. 
 
 In ev'ry age, as well as this, 
 
 One's rations never came amiss ; 
 
 E'en mighty Jupiter, is said 
 
 On Hybla's honey to have fed, 
 
 Each heathen god, all readers know. 
 
 Were fanxous all for "eating crow 
 
 Nor should one for a moment think 
 
 Great Caesar did not eat and drink. 
 
 And be assured he did not sHght 
 
 His own imperial appetite; 
 
 And history tells us Cicero, 
 
46 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Soon after Pompy's overthrow, 
 
 Ate readily "Caesarian crow." 
 
 In short, weVe not a grain of doubt, 
 
 Could all the facts be written out. 
 
 That empires rise or "go to rot," 
 
 According as they are fed or not. 
 
 Nor science letters, skill or learning. 
 
 One's stomach ever kept from yearning, 
 
 Unless, embracing in their plan, 
 
 Away to soothe the inner man . 
 
 This organ empty, will excite 
 
 The poet to his highest flight. 
 
 Lend eloquence to lips all mute 
 
 Before, of either man or brute. 
 
 Whilst wit and wine, all mortals know. 
 
 Invariably together flow. 
 
 But to return : our hero knew. 
 
 Of course, of course, our statesmen knew 
 
 In street parlance, a thing or two; 
 
 That fame was only a gew-gaw 
 
 To one, who has an empty maw, 
 
 Tho' it should bear one to the skies, 
 
 Yet none so bent to win the prize 
 
 As set out with an empty belly. 
 
 To run the risk of cake and jelly. 
 
 And so a sudden change was wrought 
 
 In all our statesman's train of thought ; 
 
 No more to be a doctrinaire 
 
 To draw a moral, split a hair. 
 
 By some contrivance he had found 
 
 The earth, not square, but nearly round, 
 
 Was never known to try to prove. 
 
 By Scripture, that "The Sun Do Move." 
 
 He talked about antipodes. 
 
 Because, he thought, no doubt that these 
 
 High-sounding words would make belief 
 
 Of all wise men he was the chief. 
 
 From one extreme into another 
 
 He ran, since he could run no further. 
 
 Political economy 
 
LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 47 
 
 His next employment, but he, 
 
 No treatise ever read or saw, 
 
 But intuition gave him law. 
 
 Instead of books he bore instead, 
 
 "The Wealth of Nations" in his head. 
 
 This led him into speculation. 
 
 Both for himself and for the nation, 
 
 And sooth to say this latter spirit. 
 
 His pushing offspring all inherit ; 
 
 Prefer to manage all affairs. 
 
 Except their own, aye, "run on shares," 
 
 The world itself, provided they. 
 
 In their own parlance, *make it pay!* 
 
 Our Solon saw, with much distress, 
 
 The land a howling wilderness. 
 
 Not even mighty Hercules, 
 
 Could clear the land of monster trees, 
 
 And drag them off and make it fit 
 
 For cultivation; so his wit 
 
 Was set to work to hatch a way 
 
 To have it done, and make it pay. 
 
 Ere long he hit upon a plan, 
 
 (In keeping with the very man,) 
 
 To solve a problem which just now 
 
 Had wrinkles wrought upon his brow. 
 
 This was the plan he'd reccommend 
 
 In working the desired end: 
 
 From Africa the news had come 
 
 That cannibals were sold for rum, 
 
 And knowing these would help him solve 
 
 The labor problem, 'gan revolve 
 
 The mighty project to procure 
 
 A ship load from this distant shore. 
 
 He argued for co-operation — 
 
 The beau-ideal of his nation, 
 
 And truth to say, they all agreed, 
 
 That cannibals would serve their need. 
 
 And so e'relong the cargo came 
 
 Of cannibals, both wild and tame. 
 
 It seem'd at first the scheme would pay 
 
48 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Experience drove all hope away, 
 
 The climate was too cold and bleak, 
 
 The cannibals grew lean and weak. 
 
 'Necessity can have no law,' 
 
 Was utter'd by some luckless "saw," 
 
 Who found himself within a place. 
 
 Which had no outlet, but disgrace. 
 
 And us'd it as a valid plea 
 
 To get out of his viUiany. 
 
 If right and wrong can have no meaning, 
 
 If they are but the idle gleaning 
 
 Of men whose smooth and easy fate 
 
 Was never put to such a strait, 
 
 Then may we use it in the day — 
 
 When honesty has ceased to pay. 
 
 Some witty fellow tells us too, 
 
 (We only wonder how he knew,) 
 
 She is the mother of invention. 
 
 And other things we may not mention. 
 
 Well, if a time had ever been. 
 
 That called for all the wit of men. 
 
 That time was this, to free the nation 
 
 From this animal creation. 
 
 The good philosopher was dead, 
 
 Who put this notion in their head. 
 
 And if he now had been about. 
 
 Would found that time had put it out. 
 
 But his descendents did inherit, 
 
 the whole of his inventive spirit, 
 
 And quickly did they turn about 
 
 And find a way to get them out. 
 
 They shipped them Southward "in a trice," 
 
 And sold them off at a good price. 
 
 What next, for verily it seems, 
 
 Their meat and drink consist in schemes. 
 
 Of self -advancement, while pretending 
 
 Another's rights to be defending. 
 
 Turn God, if posible to pelf 
 
 And traffic make of Hell itself. 
 
 All this, with many other things, 
 
 To notice, the chapter next brings. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 49 
 
 CHAPTER THIRD 
 
 It happen'h in the course of time, 
 
 (Not Pollok's that is too sublime,) 
 
 That all the facts I herein pen. 
 
 Were seen and known of living men ; 
 
 For *tis our purpose in this place 
 
 To deal in facts, nor seek to trace 
 
 Man's future misery or grace, 
 
 How he is sav'd, or how he's lost. 
 
 But chief concerns that mighty host 
 
 Of cannibals, the wild and tame, 
 
 Which we have said from Afric came, 
 
 But in so doing we must trace 
 
 The darker outlines that deface 
 
 A lineage sprung alone in schism. 
 
 And muddled now with ev'ry "ism" 
 
 That men or devils could invent, 
 
 To keep from telling what they meant. 
 
 And so we will reiterate. 
 
 That prior chapter did relate 
 
 To an unique and novel trade, 
 
 That Modern Saints with Sinners made. 
 
 In chapter number two we tell 
 
 What to these "cannibals" befell, 
 
 Within a more congenial place. 
 
 The home of all the dusky race. 
 
 So, therefore without more ado. 
 
 His hist'ry there is brought to view. 
 
 Known, then, the animal creation. 
 
 Like man, has power of propagation, 
 
 Like him in many other senses. 
 
 Without regard to consequences. 
 
 But still their owners found a way 
 
 To make the dusky creatures "pay ;" 
 
 Found him, besides, to be withal. 
 
 Well treated, a good animal : 
 
 In consequence, the owners grew 
 
 Immensely rich, as would ensue 
 
 To all, who mind their own affairs. 
 
 Nor say all things, except their prayers. 
 
50 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Oft, where the Nile, or Niger flows, 
 
 Through sunny wastes, and brightly throws 
 
 The gleaming sun-light from its breast, 
 
 His memory, at times, in quest 
 
 Of some dear object, deign'd to go. 
 
 But where it was he did not know. 
 
 He saw the dark and dismal day, 
 
 When he was seized and brought away 
 
 Across the deep and rolling sea, 
 
 (Ne'er seen before by such as he.) 
 
 Next of the cold and sterile soil. 
 
 Where first he was inured to toil, 
 
 The stinging and relentless snow, 
 
 The bitter, biting winds that blow. 
 
 Remorselessly through winters long. 
 
 Where even birds refuse a song. 
 
 Now, in a hospitable clime. 
 
 Where all the year was summer time, 
 
 Where lark and linnet sweetly sung, 
 
 Where field and farm with music rung; 
 
 Where, when the sun, its course had run, 
 
 And all their daily task was done. 
 
 Beneath some tall and stately tree, 
 
 Their keepers, sharing in their glee, 
 
 Unto the music of banjo. 
 
 They "tripp'd the light fantastic toe." 
 
 But best of all, their owners were 
 
 The keepers, they could love and fear ; 
 
 No prating fools, who went around 
 
 To fill the earth with empty sound ; 
 
 No vowing that their souls would melt 
 
 With pity they had never felt; 
 
 No turning systems inside out, 
 
 No social purist made to flout 
 
 Their placards in the face of men, 
 
 No more commandments than "The Ten," 
 
 No civilization that eschews 
 
 All that is good for the refuse 
 
 And dregs of plutocratic snobs, 
 
 Of one who daily wrings and rob§ 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 51 
 
 Ill-gotten gains from sadder slaves 
 
 Than those the nation pets and saves. 
 
 A daring and impulsive race, 
 
 Which dreaded but one thing — disgrace. 
 
 By nature prone to ridicule 
 
 The cant of puritanic school, 
 
 Or trash of transcendental fool; 
 
 No cold and philosophic breed. 
 
 Dispensing virtues that they need ; 
 
 No straight-laced ministers, whose shelves 
 
 Preach hell to all except themselves. 
 
 THE SAINTS 
 
 But volumes it would take to trace 
 
 The humors of the saintly race, 
 
 For since Pere Adam first began 
 
 To people this wide world with man, 
 
 There never has before existed 
 
 A people so perverse and twisted, 
 
 With vices, virtues, both so blended. 
 
 Where one began, the other ended. 
 
 No one could tell, and we despair 
 
 Of telling mankind what they are. 
 
 Red, brown and black, (in chief the latter,) 
 
 Seem mingled in their social platter. 
 
 All things in heav'n earth or hell, 
 
 (If they but serve their purpose well,) 
 
 They use without the least dismay. 
 
 Provided always, that it pay. 
 
 We have been told, their first appearance 
 
 Upon this earth, was interferance 
 
 With things established long ago. 
 
 And which they tried to overthrow. 
 
 But in their turn were driv'n out 
 
 For being rather too devout. 
 
 Their deep abhorrence, too, of witches. 
 
 Of luxury and handsome breeches ; 
 
 Their gloomy love and sour looks. 
 
 Their deep antipathies to books. 
 
 Save of the heavy, solemn kind^ 
 
52 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Which treat of all to hell consigned 
 
 Except themselves, their moral law, 
 
 Worse than Egyptian "bricks and straw ;' 
 
 Their solemn, sanctimonious airs. 
 
 Their fondness for the longest prayers ; 
 
 The rueful cant and nasal twang, 
 
 With which they either spoke or sang; 
 
 Their loud profession in all places 
 
 To sanctity the very traces, 
 
 The Devil wrote upon their faces 
 
 To mark them always, as his own. 
 
 No matter where they might have gone. 
 
 Yet all their cunning and conceit 
 
 Can never cover up the cheat. 
 
 For "wooden nutmegs" will betray 
 
 *A leaning not to virtue's way/ 
 
 Tis well to recapitulate 
 
 At times, and thus more clearly state 
 
 What has been written once before, 
 
 For explanation's sake, no more. 
 
 Or else the story will be stale. 
 
 And "tedious as a twice-told tale." 
 
 Be it remembered then, the trade 
 
 The modem Saints with Sinners made, 
 
 Concerning cannibals, wherein 
 
 The Saint's abhorrence of the sin 
 
 Of selling those, which, later day 
 
 They found their equals ev'ry way 
 
 Does not appear; but now began 
 
 A war of word, that puzzled man. 
 
 For strange as it may seem, they strove 
 
 By ev'ry argument to prove, 
 
 That lines alone of latitude 
 
 Did separate the bad from good. 
 
 And that the Devil never stroll'd 
 
 In countries, where the climate's cold ; 
 
 The modem earthly paradise 
 
 Were hedg'd about with snow and ice ; 
 
 Frost-bitten piety the sort, 
 
 Admitting one to Heaven's Court, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 53 
 
 Or frozen godliness alone, 
 Were in demand around the throne 
 That sin and shame are never found 
 Where snow and ice and frost abound ; 
 That wickedness has its retreat 
 Alone in climes of warmth and heat. 
 
 SAINTLY JEALOUSY 
 
 The Devil's workshop, it is said, 
 
 Is found in ev'ry idler's head ; 
 
 No doubt. Old Nick, there often dwells, 
 
 And makes a thousand little hells 
 
 Of petty spites and jealousies, 
 
 Of envy at another's ease. 
 
 Indeed, no sore was ever found 
 
 Like that immedicable wound. 
 
 Inflicted, when a hated rival 
 
 Contrives to rise by no contrival. 
 
 Or help of ours, overleaping 
 
 The bounds we set for his safe-keeping. 
 
 Thus was it, as the sequel shows. 
 
 With those, who bought and traded those 
 
 Expensive animals, which found 
 
 No sustenance on saintly ground. 
 
 An animal, forsooth, till sold 
 
 His value down in dollars told, 
 
 Now found, when others made them pay, 
 
 Their equals almost ev'ry way. 
 
 Except in goodness, for the earth 
 
 Trac'd backward to its very birth. 
 
 Thro' countless ages, never knew 
 
 A race so spotless and so true. 
 
 PHILOSOPHER AMONG THE SAINTS. 
 
 Now came a philosophic race 
 With full abilities to trace 
 The source of ev'ry ill or good, 
 Befall'n mankind since the flood. 
 These deep philosophers were giv'n 
 
54 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 To speculate on earth as Heav'n, 
 Saw universal love prevading 
 The paths to glory, they were grading; 
 Saw all peoples, kindreds, tongues, 
 Mix, and nature do no wrongs; 
 Saw all prejudice and passion 
 Of natures foreign in one fashion ; 
 Saw white and smutty Hottentot 
 Both boiling in a common pot. 
 And what one never reads in fable, 
 Both eating at a common table; 
 Saw Dutchman and his liebe bier 
 Dissolve and part for water clear ; 
 Saw Erin and her sons forsake 
 Their hate of Britain, and partake 
 Of British cheer at British boards, 
 And even toast the House of Lords ; 
 Saw valet and her queenly "marm" 
 In public, walking arm and arm ; 
 Saw mistress and the smutty maid. 
 The genius and the worthless jade. 
 All on a level and a grade 
 Hence, Gentle Reader, do not doubt, 
 There's aught impossible, without 
 Some sudden freak shall mar the plan. 
 They'll prove that man is more than man, 
 And that ere long, the brute creation. 
 Will occupy his former station. 
 They soon began to agitate. 
 On what the term'd "the social state" 
 Of those, which on a former day, 
 They bargained for and sold away. 
 They filF the land with wind and rant, 
 With stuff and sanctimonious cant. 
 Meanwhile, the cannibal content, 
 Performed the task, that he was sent, 
 And never dream'd the world without. 
 Was getting into grief about 
 Himself; 'twas pity thrown away, 
 Oh, no, have they not made it pay? 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 55 
 
 Next came a philanthropic tribe, 
 
 Which beggars language to describe, 
 
 Long, lank and lean, and hollow-eyed, 
 
 Tho' indigestion long had vied 
 
 With death itself, and left within 
 
 An aching void, where bile and sin. 
 
 In equal parts contrived to stay 
 
 And keep grim death alone at bay, 
 
 Dyspepsia, too their minds had seiz'd 
 
 And both were equally diseas'd. 
 
 Their mental eyelids hung within, 
 
 And not without, and hid the sin. 
 
 That others saw, yet they could see. 
 
 The mote, the smallest that could be. 
 
 That swam within a brother's eye, 
 
 And raised at once a hue and cry, 
 
 As if *the devil were to pay,' 
 
 Unless said mote were mov'd away. 
 
 The beam that ever blurr'd their own 
 
 They ne'er so much as thought upon ; 
 
 So great a blindness doth possess 
 
 Believers in self-righteouness. 
 
 That microscopes cannot detect 
 
 A single flaw in God's elect. 
 
 Altho' the Devil in his sleevs. 
 
 While looking through the web he weaves. 
 
 Is laughing at them, yet they go, 
 
 As if old mother earth below, 
 
 Would not exist another day, 
 
 Should Providence take them away. 
 
 That each and every age displays 
 
 Some vice peculiar to its days 
 
 They did admit, but 'twas before 
 
 Their race had trod the earthly floor. 
 
 That men would cheat and lie and steal 
 
 And cloak it with religious zeal ; 
 
 That ev'n Quakers had been maim'd 
 
 Whipt at carts' tails because they nam'd 
 
 Religious freedom, Williams sent 
 
 Thro' pathless woods in banishment 
 
56 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 To find in hearts of savage chiefs 
 
 A home and solace for his griefs. 
 
 Caligula drove his furious steeds 
 
 Thro' streets where his near kinsman bleeds ; 
 
 Sylla and Marius prescribe 
 
 Rome's noblest for the meanest bribe ; 
 
 Bobespierre for the horrid store, 
 
 That he had shed, of human gore. 
 
 Might find forgiveness for those crimes. 
 
 Defenceless even in those times. 
 
 But pardon grant they never shall 
 
 To one who owned a cannibal. 
 
 A nos moutons, we now return. 
 
 Where heroes for the conflict burn 
 
 Each lesser saint to greater bow'd, 
 
 Horse foot, dragoon, a motly crowd. 
 
 Until Utopia became 
 
 Confusion worse than a Bedlam. 
 
 Ye Gods ! how wind and thunder roll'd, 
 
 From such as lately bought and sold, 
 
 With what pathetic frenzy told. 
 
 How cannibals from day to day, 
 
 In sighs and tears groaned life away. 
 
 At times, the saintly billingsgate 
 
 Was measureless, invoking fate, 
 
 And all the furies out of hell 
 
 To come at once the curse to quell: 
 
 Pronounced the "Writ" that gave them breath, 
 
 'A league and covnant with death,* 
 
 And leaving all the means they saw 
 
 Began to preach the "Higher Law," 
 
 Tho' it should ruin fabric reared 
 
 By patriots whom the world rever'd, 
 
 For that alone which time would damn. 
 
 Without recourse to cant or sham. 
 
 Great souls there were on either side, 
 
 Who sought to stem the dreadful tide, 
 
 One, who in prophetic awe, 
 
 His country's desolation saw ; 
 
 He wam'd them of their coming fate, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 57 
 
 His sole reward — his country's hate. 
 Another pray'd the beauteous Sun, 
 Whose beams he last might gaze upon, 
 Might never shine upon a State 
 Drench'd in fraternal blood, but fate 
 Took his capacious soul away 
 Before the horrors of that day. 
 It came, alas, the dreadful day, 
 A million homes in mourning lay, 
 As fire and sword in fury swept, 
 O'er fields that late with harvests slept. 
 And sow'd the earth, above, beneath. 
 With Hell's idea, dragon's teeth. 
 "Truth crushed to earth will rise again," 
 Will rise superior to her pain. 
 The nations of the earth shall know. 
 Who struck the fratricidal blow. 
 When heroes of the Blue and Gray, 
 Shall each to each due homage pay, 
 And scorn with all their martial souls. 
 The cowards base and venal ghouls, 
 Who shunn'd the conflict they had bred, 
 And liv'd but to malign the dead. 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTH 
 
 Full fifty years has passed away 
 Since first the saints began to sway. 
 And now the reader has a right 
 To know how Saints in such a plight 
 Behav'd themselves, and we propose 
 To give the facts, let them disclose 
 To him or her, as case may be. 
 The real motive, let all see 
 If simple honesty explain 
 A reason for the thousands slain 
 On either side, or hope of gain, 
 Or love of Union dominate 
 The Saints in the affairs of State . 
 And now the golden age was here 
 By poets sung, foretold by seer. 
 
58 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 When all Utopian dreams could be 
 
 Put to the test, and all could see 
 
 How wide, so varied in their range 
 
 Could now be had in such a change 
 
 Of vision, both of earth and heaven 
 
 A special dispenstation given. 
 
 The first move was to legislate 
 
 For cannibals for church and State 
 
 That set them free in honor bound 
 
 To give the "right" which could be crown'd 
 
 Not with success unless 'twere given 
 
 The right to vote, hold office ev'n. 
 
 This done, the way was open wide 
 
 For rascals now on either side, 
 
 "Saint Carpet-bagger" seized his "grip ;" 
 
 His sole possession, hastened trip 
 
 As best he could to sinner land. 
 
 Yet truth to say, not one brass band 
 
 Come forth to meet him, everywhere 
 
 The Saint receiv'd "an icy glare," 
 
 But not one whit did C . B . care. 
 
 For scoundrels when on plunder bent 
 
 Care naught for love, or compliment. 
 
 And yet, it seems, no man can fall 
 
 So low and so despis'd by all 
 
 But he may find one of his will 
 
 Whose meanness can be blacker still. 
 
 And he found one who held the bag. 
 
 While he was pouring in the "swag" 
 
 Of course we mean "St. Scalawag." 
 
 Oh ! 'par nobile f ratrum these, 
 
 In meanness, tho' I say it please. 
 
 That "Scalawag" was far the worst 
 
 With which the earth was ever curs'd, 
 
 A dozen Judases in one, 
 
 The vilest dog beneath the sun. 
 
 No mortal pen could ever tell 
 
 What crime their meanness could excel. 
 
 These Twain at once began to sow 
 
 The seeds of discord here below, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 59 
 
 'Twixt cannibals and those who would 
 
 Have been his friends and by him stood, 
 
 Without a home and without bread, 
 
 Or anywhere to lay his head. 
 
 Except the cabin master gave 
 
 To him as home when he was slave. 
 
 Meanwhile the Saints, and none forbid, 
 
 Applauded all those scoundrels did. 
 
 And argued strongly that the spoil 
 
 Belonged alone to "Trooly Loil." 
 
 Passed measures all sane men foresaw 
 
 Where violation of God's Law 
 
 In all creation, made a mole 
 
 As great as mammoth, gave control 
 
 Of states to such as would excel. 
 
 And shine nowhere, except in hell, ' 
 
 It seem'd they could no pity feel, 
 
 But harder ground the iron heel 
 
 Upon the necks of those whose sires 
 
 Had kindled Revolutions fires, 
 
 Whose blood was shed in ev'ry fight 
 
 That brought Utopia to light. 
 
 And laid the base on which was reared 
 
 A Government by all rever'd, 
 
 Nay more, a haven and a rest 
 
 For all by tyranny oppressed 
 
 In other lands beyond the sea. 
 
 Who hither fled, and here were free 
 
 Alas, in passion's raging hour. 
 
 These Saints Utopian, drunk with power 
 
 Sought in their blindness and their hate 
 
 Their power to perpentrate 
 
 By means so base, tho' long since past, 
 
 Still makes the reader stand aghast; 
 
 Permission gave to cannibals 
 
 To sit and vote in Senate Halls 
 
 As if mere freedom could make good 
 
 In place where Clay and Webster stood, 
 
 Unlettered Africans devise 
 
 Laws, good in Anglo-Saxon eyes, 
 
^ LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Consistent tho/ beyond a doubt, 
 
 In all they tried to carry out, 
 
 For had not their great thinkers taught, 
 
 Ihat human nature could be brought 
 
 To full perfection by a plan 
 
 Enacted not by God, but man. 
 
 Of course they failed, for in this day 
 
 Tho far advanced in ev'ry way 
 
 No plan as yet has been unf urPd 
 
 How lunatics can rule the world. 
 
 As for ourselves, all unconcerned 
 
 As touching this, for we have learnU 
 
 Men out of power rant and roar 
 
 Just like the Devil's at the door. 
 
 But office soon effects a cure 
 
 In ev'ry case except the kind 
 
 CalPd "chronic," these are ever blind 
 
 To truth and light and cannot see 
 
 A virtue in an enemy. 
 
 Thank God, this craze now well-nigh past. 
 
 The true Utopia comes at last. 
 
 When peace and human brotherhood 
 
 Are being taught and understood, 
 
 In ev'ry line, our country filled 
 
 With brains, true greatness to up-build, 
 
 For when convictions. North and South 
 
 Were voiced at the cannon's mouth 
 
 And settled then, why now revive 
 
 And keep old quarrels yet alive ! 
 
 When each side claims in right to be 
 
 Tis best t' agree to disagree 
 
 And let at once all rancor cease 
 
 And cultivate the arts of peace, 
 
 The veterans of that awful day 
 
 Ere long will all have passed away, 
 
 And they were friends, no malice wrought 
 
 In hearts of all true men who fought 
 
 Each other then, and then became 
 
 As brothers with an equal claim 
 
 To glorious deeds on either side. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 61 
 
 For which so many fought and died. 
 Survivors of the Blue and Gray- 
 Are walking arm in arm today 
 And telling in a soldier^s way 
 Of scenes and jokes and songs they sung 
 'Round camp-fires when their hearts were young 
 Indeed is this the greatest age 
 The world has known, its brightest page, 
 Now peace and concord far out-weigh 
 The triumphs of war's bloody day 
 'Tis true, some Heybums now and then 
 And Bleases pre-historic men, 
 Burst forth in fierce and racous strain 
 And fight in words the war again. 
 But North and South together knit 
 By Southern pluck and Northern grit 
 Are busy with the shop and plow 
 And laugh at all such fossils now. 
 The sons of rigid Puritan 
 Developed into splendid man 
 All narrowness, now thrown away 
 Erect he stands four-square today 
 "To all the winds that bite and blow" 
 From icy Maine to Mexico. 
 The sons of lazy Cavalier 
 Now captains in industrial sphere 
 Have found it better making "good" 
 Than boasting of ancestoral blood ! 
 But since the struggle, fierce and grim, 
 The Cannibal what went with him ? 
 I hear you ask and well you may 
 Since he occasioned all the fray ; 
 (Behind it deeper reason lay.) 
 Well after reconstructions days, 
 Well-drilled in all the evil ways 
 Of politics in lowest phase, 
 He flocked to cities to become 
 A "dead-beat," "loafer" and a "bum," 
 Not worth the powder and the shot 
 By which he was of riddance got. 
 
W LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 When too frisky and too gay 
 
 For whites upon "election day," 
 
 Or when his brutish passions led 
 
 To crime, that good ag made him dead. 
 
 Tho' thus I write, and thus impart, 
 
 No malice rankles in my heart 
 
 Against the race, I realize 
 
 His lot is hard 'neath Southern skies, 
 
 And harder still among the Saints, 
 
 Where he has gone with his complaints. 
 
 They listen to his tale of woe. 
 
 Then damn the sinners here below. 
 
 And threaten them with curses, sire. 
 
 And here their sympathies expire. 
 
 Poor erring and deluded race 
 
 These tempted thee to set thy face 
 
 Against true friends, who ev'n now 
 
 Still help you with the hoe and plow, 
 
 Who taught you how to make a crop, 
 
 And not to eat each other "up," 
 
 Taught you to cease the worship vile 
 
 Of lizard, snake, and crocodile. 
 
 Taught you to wear a decent dress 
 
 And cease to flaunt your nakedness. 
 
 Nay more than this, taught you to love. 
 
 The one in whom we live and move. 
 
 Made friends of you in better days 
 
 Before you fell in evil ways. 
 
 Fine women nurs'd you night and day 
 
 When you on bed of sickness lay. 
 
 Supported you in age extreme 
 
 When profit was an idle dream. 
 
 And buried you when pass'd away 
 
 In ground where your old master lay. 
 
 And most of you responded to 
 
 This kindness when your hearts were true, 
 
 For some best friends that I have known 
 
 Were old time darkies dead and gone 
 
 Whose children romp'd and play'd with me. 
 
 Before the "Saints" had set them free. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 They knew their place as I knew mine, 
 And neither tried to cross the line, 
 
 Which God for reasons wise and good. 
 No doubt as lines of latitude 
 That give a climate, each its own 
 To Torrid and to Frigid Zone. 
 And nature's law must all obey, 
 Or reckoning be forced to pay. 
 Or perish if we will pursue 
 Contrary courses thereunto. 
 
 But why repress him some one says. 
 
 Let him have equal chance these days, 
 
 Have we not tried, but tried in vain. 
 
 To raise him to a higher plane. 
 
 Him learning gave when as a rule 
 
 He but becomes a bigger fool. 
 
 And greater knave, in such a case. 
 
 Contrives to live upon his race, 
 
 And deems it civiliz'd to shirk. 
 
 Nor do one lick of honest work. 
 
 Not all the books upon the shelf 
 
 Will teach him to respect himself. 
 
 With such "fool notions" in his head, 
 
 As shame in earning honest bread 
 
 By honest labor, day by day. 
 
 For this is God's appointed way. 
 
 But he is here and must remain. 
 
 Till some Utopia comes again 
 
 And clears his unperceiving brain. 
 
 From foolishness, and give him worth 
 
 Among the races of the earth. 
 
 For he must learn thro' process show 
 
 The "art of hoeing his own row" 
 
 He cannot live upon the smile 
 
 Of some pretended "Negrophile." 
 
 This will not last him, perish quite 
 
 When hate of South goes out of sight, 
 
 When North and South, and East and West 
 
64 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Become as one, as one possessed 
 Of empire, such as world before 
 Has never seen, and will no more, 
 The African must then make good, 
 Or perish in this latitude 
 As weaker races all have done, 
 Contending with a stronger one, 
 Without some special reason, 
 They are preserved and cannot die. 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTH 
 
 The age of which the poets sung. 
 
 And dreamers dream 'd when earth was young, 
 
 Seems now at hand, the reign of peace. 
 
 When carnivals of blood shall cease. 
 
 When battleships shall cease to be. 
 
 And Commerce only rule the sea. 
 
 All men as brothers with one aim. 
 
 To help each other and proclaim. 
 
 As did the Christ, who first began 
 
 And taught brotherhood of man. 
 
 When kings who sit upon the throne 
 
 Must rule in justice, or condone 
 
 For such offense by stepping down 
 
 Beneath the world's indignant frown ; 
 
 When social class exclusiveness 
 
 Is based on merit, nothing less ; 
 
 When "blue-blood" has no greater weight 
 
 In managing affairs of State 
 
 Than others with an equal claim 
 
 To present, not descended fame. 
 
 Wondrous Era, nature plays 
 
 Into man's hand ten thousand ways; 
 
 When lightning, once the dread of man, 
 
 Is hamess'd, made to serve his plan ; 
 
 While steam and gas and dynamite 
 
 Obey man's will — his servants quite; 
 
 When mammoth steamers ride the sea, 
 
 All safe, where perils used to be; 
 
 Electric and the railway train 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 65 
 
 Through mountains plunge and over the plain 
 
 With so much speed, a week, or more, 
 
 And they have sped from shore to shore. 
 
 While spindles by the millions click 
 
 In factories, and voices speak 
 
 In phonographs, of those now dead 
 
 Repeat, preserve the words they said ; 
 
 While music's sweet, celestial tone 
 
 Is ours through the graphophone ; 
 
 And "moving pictures" now portray 
 
 The quickest movement, facial play; 
 
 Aye, on canvas to unroll 
 
 The very passions of the soul ; 
 
 While telegraph and telephone 
 
 Have knit the whole world into one. 
 
 Enabling man to hold converse 
 
 With well nigh half the Universe. 
 
 But better far than all of these 
 Is science's conquest of disease; 
 Thro* "Rays Roentgen's" wondrous lens 
 It beards the lions in their dens, 
 Revealing to the surgeon's eye 
 The very seat where dangers lie ; 
 Cures, marvelous in former age, 
 So common now they've pass'd the stage 
 Of wonderment ; in every land 
 Health-bringing sanatoriums stand. 
 While kind asylums ope' the door 
 For all the sick, or rich, or poor ; 
 Aye, even conquest of the air 
 Seems now assured, when airships bear 
 Man and his message every where, 
 All thro' the atmospheric zone. 
 Where hitherto but birds have flown ; 
 No waxen wings, as fables taught, 
 To melt w^hen in conjunction brought 
 With solar rays, but built to stand 
 'Gainst heat and cold o'er every land. 
 And thus we see this vast domain 
 
66 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Now yields to science, in its train 
 Ere long to be a captive lead 
 To its triumphant car, and shed 
 Fresh lustre on creation's head, 
 While printing presses volumes pour, 
 Ten thousands now to one before ; 
 And godly "civic righteousness," 
 The world to sweeten and to bless, 
 Comes on apace, and calls a halt. 
 Make rascals "sit below the salt" 
 The hideous reign of graft and guill 
 Is doomed, with all its methods vile 
 Exposed, its power melts away 
 Before the public's scorn today. 
 
 Let us thank God ; aye, one and all. 
 Such time to live did us befall ; 
 In better world, in better day, 
 Than all or any passed away. 
 
 The present war in Europe began after these 
 lines were written. 
 
 THE COMET— (Halley's) 
 
 O! had the comet language 
 What could it not reveal 
 Of vast worlds whose existence 
 The depths of space conceal. 
 
 Could tell of suns so brilliant 
 That ours seems a spark, 
 A glow worm or a candle 
 That twinkles in the dark. 
 
 Beyond the rings of Saturn, 
 Beyond the "Milky Way," 
 And near enough to heaven 
 To see the children play, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 67 
 
 Perhaps has caught the echo 
 Of music of the spheres, 
 And heard the strains celestial 
 That charm angelic ears. 
 
 Has heard the hallelujahs 
 That must in heaven rise 
 As dying saints are passing 
 Through gate- way of the skies . 
 
 Explain its roving endless, 
 Without a home or place, 
 What crime, if any, made it 
 The "Wandering Jew" of space? 
 
 But since it cannot tell us 
 Why should we try to pierce, 
 Or solve the god-like problem 
 Of stellar universe? 
 
 Alas ! imagination. 
 However great its might, 
 Grows weary when 'twould follow 
 A comet in its flight. 
 
 Then let us be contented. 
 And our best efforts give 
 In striving to make better 
 The world in which we live. 
 
 WAR. 
 
 If all the blood that has been shed 
 Since Cain first smote his brother dead 
 Could be collected, it would be 
 A horrid, sanguinary sea. 
 If all the tears that have been shed 
 Since Eve first wept for Abel dead 
 Could fall as rain, the earth below 
 Would tremble with the wails of woe. 
 
68 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Yet some in this surpassing age 
 
 For it contend and would engage 
 
 In killing men and pleasure find 
 
 In that which shocks the human mind. 
 
 But altho' nations' plaudit ring, 
 
 And poets of its glories sing 
 
 And gloss it o'er, war rightly prized 
 
 Is simply murder organized. 
 
 Unjustified in any sense, 
 
 Save that alone of self-defense; 
 
 Wrong even then if men should fight 
 
 Defending wrong against the right. 
 
 Oh, may peace-lovers triumph see 
 Till o'er the earth their efforts be 
 Successful as they carry on 
 The grandest warfare ever known. 
 Oh, may their efforts never cease 
 Till o'er the world the Prince of Peace 
 Shall reign indeed, his emblem be 
 Unfurled on every land and sea. 
 Thank God for peace on this fair shore 
 Serene amid the storms that roar 
 O'er Europe like a raging flood 
 Immersing it in seas of blood. 
 O, God of Battles, stay the rage 
 For slaughter in this golden age. 
 
 AN OLD-FASHIONED COUNTRY MAIDEN. 
 
 When early birds are singing and dew is on the 
 
 grass, 
 I listen for the carol of the pretty country lass ; 
 She's on her way to milking ; I know it by the pail, 
 And by her cheery ditty, which floats upon the 
 
 gale. 
 
 She is so spry and active she seems to spring along 
 As if her feet were tripping to music of her 
 song. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 69 
 
 The lowing of the cattle and the mooing of the cow 
 Seem speaking in kine language, "Our friend is 
 coming now/' 
 
 Her lips are like the roses that bloom upon the 
 burn; 
 
 Her cheeks are like the cherries when they begin 
 to turn ; 
 
 Her eyes as black as charcoal, or sloes the sum- 
 mers bring ; 
 
 Her glossy hair, it glistens like glint of raven's 
 wing. 
 
 There's no deceit about her ; she never acts a part ; 
 She's unsophisticated; and near to nature's 
 
 heart — 
 Knows nothing of belles letters or scientific things, 
 Yet she can serve a supper that's good enough 
 
 for kings. 
 
 She never heard of Homer ; can't conjugate a verb, 
 Yet her biscuits are delicious, and her butter 
 
 is superb ; 
 A comfort to her mother in kitchen, with the 
 
 kine, 
 And tho' her lot is lowly, her mission is divine. 
 
 Ah ! she's a real treasure to those who wish to find 
 A wife and woman truly of good old-fashioned kind 
 Who make man's home a heaven, tho' humble it 
 
 may be. 
 For in it dwells an angel, none truer here than she. 
 
 BIRTHDAY MEMORIES. 
 
 Mem'ry takes me back today 
 
 Again to long ago ; 
 To lov'd ones who have pass'd away, 
 
 To friends I used to know. 
 
70 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 With but a touch of CHo's wand, 
 She brings the past at will ; 
 
 I feel the touch of vanished hand, 
 The heaven of its thrill. 
 
 I crave it not — I am a boy 
 
 In fact — in very truth; 
 Fiird with a restless, bounding joy 
 
 That glorifies all youth. 
 
 The Blue Ridge then to westward lay, 
 As now, but what a change! 
 
 The top of earth in life's young day, 
 Now, but a mountain range. 
 
 Its summit seem'd to touch the skies, 
 
 And to my fancy given. 
 Could I but to its apex rise, 
 
 Could music hear in Heaven. 
 
 Then little rills by freshets stirred 
 As rivers seem'd to me — 
 
 While to my eyes the James appeared 
 Like some vast inland sea. 
 
 And father, mother, sisters sweet. 
 And brothers lov'd and dear. 
 
 With whom my joy was complet 
 Aye, naught else wanting here. 
 
 And my young playmates, active, stout, 
 
 Ah, how we used to run ! 
 For each one deem'd without a doubt, 
 
 This world was made for fun. 
 
 Not one of us did ever dream 
 That this would come to end — 
 
 No breakers ever mar the stream. 
 So calm and smooth its trend. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LO ST CAUSE Jtl 
 
 To arms ! the hour is at hand, 
 
 Adieu, sweet boyhood's day — 
 The tocsin sounds throughout the land. 
 
 For battle's stern array. 
 
 'Tis past — the curtain falls at last 
 
 On scenes of blood and tears ; 
 A gulf between us and the past. 
 
 And our young, happy years. 
 
 The world in which I live today, 
 
 Not that my boyhood knew — 
 That world has long since passed away 
 
 And bidden me adieu ! 
 
 The pickaninnies on the place. 
 
 With whom I used to play. 
 Are dead and gone — another race 
 
 Of Africans today. 
 
 And boys who stood in line with me 
 
 Of battle, fierce and stem. 
 Have pass'd o'er that mysterious sea 
 
 From which there's no return. 
 
 Let it be so, I do not pine — 
 
 They have but gone before ; 
 Their journey ends ahead of mine. 
 
 We'll meet to part no more. 
 
 I do not crave for age extreme. 
 
 Its weakness and its ill ; 
 Be but one thought with me supreme — 
 
 To do my Maker's will. 
 
 HELEN. 
 
 Helen, thy name awakes 
 A rapture in my breast 
 Like that which music makes 
 When tenderly exprest. 
 
72 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 A concord in a word 
 It falls upon my ear 
 Like far-off music heard 
 
 From some angelic sphere. 
 
 Bright dreams of romance golden 
 Seem to encircle me; 
 I live in brave days olden 
 
 When heroes fought for Thee. 
 
 One of the world's immortals, 
 Thy name forever shines ; 
 Fame oped to Thee its portals 
 In Homer's deathless lines. 
 
 Not ev'n great Achilles, 
 
 Who sulks through sense of wrong, 
 
 Old Nestor, sage Uylsees, 
 
 Nor Ajax fierce and strong 
 
 Arrest the eye nor sway us 
 As she of whom we sing, 
 The bride of Menelaus — 
 Unfaithful to her king. 
 
 Thy frailty nothing daunted, 
 Blind son of Scio's Isle, 
 Thy beauty ever vaunted. 
 Forgetful of thy guile. 
 
 Hence Helen, ever glorious. 
 Would not e'en Homer be 
 A failure, sheer, notorious. 
 Were Iliad without Thee? 
 
 The combat and the duel 
 Would pall, disgust and tire 
 Save Helen as a fuel 
 
 That kindled Grecian fire. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 73 
 
 Had Paris not been smitten 
 
 And conquer'd by thy charms, 
 No Iliad had been written 
 Extolling Grecian arms. 
 
 > 
 Hence almost unregretted, 
 Fair Helen is thy crime ; 
 Since world to thee indebted 
 For epic for all time. 
 
 (In memory of James R. Gordon, who depart- 
 ed this Hfe February 6, 1904, at the Memorial 
 Hospital, Richmond, Va.) 
 
 A product of the Farf ar Hills 
 Of Scotia-land of granite wills 
 
 And real men, 
 Who dar'd to call their souls their own 
 When bloody bigots held the throne, 
 And made of Scotland, years agone, 
 
 A slaughter pen. 
 
 A rugged Scotchman to the last, 
 Unmoved, aye, ever holding fast, 
 
 Sound to the core ; 
 Naturalized, and yet the sea 
 Could never wean such sons as he 
 
 From native shore. 
 
 Indeed, how often when alone 
 He talke'd to me in tender tone 
 
 Of Scotia dear. 
 Where "mither" liv*d and sisters dwelt. 
 His words revealing what he felt, 
 
 So far, so near. 
 
 Ah, as I stood around his bier. 
 How many recollections dear 
 Came back to me, 
 
74 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Of sweet converse, of kindly deeds, 
 Unsought supplying many needs 
 Men did not see. 
 
 Alas ! in loneliness he died, 
 Without one lov'd one at his side 
 
 The parting hour. 
 Yet doubt not ; death's cold, sullen stream 
 Shook not his trust and faith supreme 
 
 In Heaven's power. 
 
 Now loving hands have plac'd away 
 The lifeless form, the senseless clay, 
 
 There to remain. 
 Until the final trump shall sound. 
 When he, with life immortal crown'd 
 
 Shall live again. 
 
 "OUR SCIENTIFIC BROTHER." 
 
 He always had misgivings of one sort or another, 
 So that his brethren call'd him, "Our Scientific 
 
 Brother ;" 
 He doubted whether Moses more to Inspiration 
 
 ow'd 
 Than he did to Babylonia with its Kammurabi 
 
 Code, 
 In fact he often doubted whether Moses wrote 
 
 at all ; 
 That Genesis was extant ere Moses got the call. 
 Some Babylonian savant had published it before, 
 And that the Hebrew swip'd it, only this and 
 
 nothing more. 
 
 He flounder'd in the Red Sea, couldn't get across 
 
 dry-shod — 
 'Twas but a fairy story, and not the Word of God. 
 Whilst Adam in the garden and that Forbidden 
 
 Tree 
 Was just an allegory, as plain as it could be, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 75 
 
 Repugnant to the reason of scientists like he. 
 As to the Hebrew Children in Fiery Furnace cast, 
 And coming out unsinged from the consuming 
 
 blast, 
 Said he could not believe it *'agin" all evidence, 
 "Agin'' the laws of "nater," as well as common 
 
 sense ; 
 And when he got to Jonah, "Impossible !" says he, 
 For whales have never "spouted in Mediter- 
 ranean Sea." 
 
 His brethren "put up" with him and his notions as 
 
 they could. 
 They hated to unchurch him while negatively 
 
 good, 
 Nay, while he spared the Gospels, they had some 
 
 hopes of him. 
 But still they watched him keenly to see how he 
 
 would "trim," 
 And when they heard him doubting its miracles, 
 
 you see, 
 And asking younger members how This and That 
 
 could be. 
 They gave a word of caution, which should have 
 
 been enough, 
 But th' conscience of this Brother had gotten 
 
 very tough ; 
 
 So he cried out, "Persecution !" as loud as he could 
 
 bawl, 
 And all the "Press Satanic" responded to his call : 
 Result — He was a hero and the church had made 
 
 him so. 
 By trying to make a* silk purse out of sow's ear, 
 
 you know ; 
 But he never was converted, to make the story 
 
 plain, 
 The "Scientific Brother" had not been born again. 
 But for some other reason had gotten in the 
 
 church, 
 And to make a reputation had left it in the lurch. 
 
76 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Ah! many high professors in colleges today- 
 Have grown too Scientific for good old Gospel 
 
 way, 
 Think more of higher Critics and their little 
 
 verbal flaws 
 Than of the lowly Jesus, and the spreading of His 
 
 cause. 
 
 THE WANT OF MONEY. 
 
 The lacking of dollars with which to pay debts 
 Is source of much worry and many regrets, 
 
 As many can tell. 
 ''Your note will be due at date so and so," 
 Your banker advises — to hint is to know, 
 
 And answers as well 
 As legal cap page, and all written o'er 
 With gentle reminders all debtors deplore 
 
 When credit is down 
 To the low water-mark, and you cannot see 
 Where cash is to come from and so you agree 
 
 To go out o' town 
 And bury yourself, as you fondly surmise. 
 In sylvan retreat where a creditor's eyes 
 
 Can't fall upon you. 
 Egregious mistake; no spot has been found 
 On top of the earth or under the ground 
 To hide you, poor fellow, when the time comes 
 around 
 
 And his note is due. 
 You owe Mr. A and you give him your fist 
 To a piece of white paper and think it dismissed ; 
 
 But nevertheless, 
 Tho' he puts it away — in his safe, we will say. 
 And you hope he'll forget it a year and a day, 
 
 In business stress, 
 Don't gamble on that, for, you can be bound. 
 That note comes to life when the day comes 
 around. 
 
 And ready for "biz." 
 
LYRICS OF THEJ.OST^AUSE_ 77 
 
 No humming, nor fussing,nor fretting and jawing, 
 Your fist wiU convince if you go to lawmg, 
 That his'n is his. 
 
 Perhaps Mr. B is indebted to you ; 
 
 His note, hke your own, is just about due. 
 
 You sit down and write: 
 "My dear Mr. B, as no doubt you know. 
 Your note will be due in a few days or so ; 
 
 I'm in a place tight, 
 And so, my good fellow, don't fail to remit. 
 Or else I am left in a mighty bad sit, 
 
 As printers would say. 
 You wait a whole week and not a line seen, 
 '^NoxTwhat in the devil does that fellow mean 
 
 In doing this way? 
 I lent him the money, and did he not say ! 
 *At date specified I will certainly pay / 
 
 Well, ril let him know." 
 So I draw up my chair to my table and write 
 Billet doux Number 2, and while it s polite 
 
 'Tis remarkably plain. 
 And the answer comes back, I see from its tone 
 That friendship between us forever is gone. 
 
 And yields to the strain. 
 Tho' the check he encloses my honor preserves. 
 His letter somehow gets on to my nerves; 
 
 And why— tell me, why? 
 He seemed to be happy in making the loan ; 
 Then why is he angry when I ask for my own? 
 
 I hear no reply. 
 But, boiUng it down, it seems to be this: 
 In going thro' life, if you wish to miss 
 
 Th' unpardonable sm. 
 Don't get into debt; men never forgive 
 This one single sin as long as you live ; 
 
 And not even then. 
 They'll land you in hell if you owe em a cent 
 Tho' preachers declare they saw you repent 
 Ere you gave up the ghost, 
 
78 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 They will not believe it — it makes *em all sick, 
 And all of them hope old debt-paying "Nick" 
 Will give you a roast. 
 
 A CHANGE OF SENTIMENT 
 
 'Tis said that absence conquers love, 
 And, 0, believe it true, 
 For I have tried the fact to prove, 
 And Fve forgotten you. 
 
 I thought my love would make me once 
 A martyr or a hero, 
 Which by an absence of two months 
 Became as cold as zero. 
 
 Hence, you may set it down as true 
 That love is but a fever. 
 Which needs but one chill blast or two, 
 'Tis gone, aye, gone forever. 
 
 "THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE." 
 
 Can it drive disease from the seats of health ? 
 Take sting from want and fear from wealth ? 
 
 Will it equalize 
 The burden we bear in journey of life? 
 Give peace for war, give Love for strife ? 
 
 Will it make us wise ? 
 
 Has it power to snatch from the jaws of death 
 The dying man as he gasps for breath 
 
 On bed of pain? 
 Will it cause the roses to bloom once more 
 On faded cheeks when youth is o'er? 
 
 Or strength maintain? 
 
 Will it stay the tears in the mother's eye 
 As she beholds her loved ones die ? 
 
LYRICS OF THE LO ST CAUSE 79 
 
 Give joy and song for groan and sigh 
 
 In hours of gloom? 
 Has it power to heal a broken heart ? 
 Or bring a message when friends depart 
 
 Beyond the tomb? 
 
 No, none of these things, it promises naught 
 Outside of things that cannot be bought 
 
 With money alone. 
 How to transmute all things into gold. 
 This, this is the secret, I have been told. 
 
 Of Philosopher's Stone. 
 
 MISS ANNIE S. 
 
 Tall and erect her figure stands. 
 Symmetrical in ev'ry line. 
 As tho* some Grecian sculptor's hands 
 Had chisel'd it with art divine. 
 
 A brilliant wit, a winning grace 
 That scores a triumph without art, 
 And rightly holds exalted place 
 By virtue of her mind and heart. 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 I see again the calm sweet face 
 
 Of Mother and the smiles that chase 
 
 Each other, as her loving heart 
 
 In all our pleasures took part 
 
 From love and sympathy alone. 
 
 Which made them as it were her own. 
 
 Tho' more than forty years have past 
 
 Since I beheld my Mother last, 
 
 Yet her sweet presence beams and shines 
 
 Upon me, as I pen these lines. 
 
 From Heaven itself, for it was known 
 
 When God took her he took his own. 
 
80 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 ROBERT F. SCOTT AND HIS MEN. 
 
 An Appreciation. 
 
 The hero on the battlefield, 
 
 His soul with courage rife, 
 
 Would rather die upon his shield 
 Than lead a coward's life. 
 
 Upborne by truth the martyr can 
 Walk calmly to the stake, 
 
 Death has no terrors for the man 
 Who dies for conscience sake. 
 
 The dauntless spirit of the brave, 
 
 On either land or sea 
 Discounts the terrors of the grave 
 
 Engaged in duty's way. 
 
 Yet "bravest of the brave" are they, 
 
 Who, leaving self behind 
 Give up their lives in duty's way 
 For good of human kind. 
 
 Such men of fame are worthier far 
 Than scores of Bonapartes, 
 
 True conquerers of men, they are 
 The rulers of their hearts. 
 
 And such were they of whom we pen 
 This lay. Oh! were it mine 
 
 T'immortalize heroic men — 
 
 Each gallant name should shine 
 
 With glory on their country's page, 
 Already great with fame, 
 
 Yet greater still in this great age 
 With Scott's resplendent name. 
 
 His courage death could not defeat 
 In its most awful form. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 81 
 
 For well he knew, tho' life was sweet, 
 No hope in Arctic storm. 
 
 Yet hear him, leaving self behind. 
 To country make his plea — 
 
 "Forget not those we leave behind. 
 So dear to them and me. 
 
 "In realm of ice where blizzards roar, 
 
 My frozen fingers fail, 
 I would, but I can write no more. 
 
 Our bodies tell the tale." 
 
 And they have told, will ever tell 
 
 In story and in song, 
 In Arctic annals e'er excel 
 
 As ages roll along. 
 
 Altho* in loneliness they died 
 *Mid scenes of utmost gloom, 
 
 No hero yet, life laid aside, 
 Has a more splendid tomb. 
 
 For tho' no shaft can mark their worth 
 
 Beneath those icy skies. 
 Yet best remembered place on earth 
 
 Is where a hero lies. 
 
 Altho' we can no flowers bear. 
 
 Save from affection's stem, 
 God loves the brave, knows where they are. 
 
 And He will care for them. 
 
 Oh, Britain ! proud of such a son. 
 
 Thou hast a right to be. 
 He is indeed thy peerless one. 
 
 An honor unto thee. 
 
82 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 THE MASTER MIND. 
 
 It is the proof of master mind 
 To see when other men are bhnd, 
 Truths to proclaim, before unknown, 
 To create systems of its ov/n, 
 To shatter creeds and fancies built 
 On superstition, error, guilt. 
 Without respect for what is high 
 When its foundations is a lie. 
 With conscious rectitude of aim 
 To bear the brunt, despise the shame, 
 Which open warfare always makes 
 When it the props of Error shakes, 
 Or when one strips a deadly sin, 
 From ass's head the lion's skin. 
 
 Or shows deceivers and deceived, 
 
 That truth alone must be believ'd 
 
 At any cost, for truth alone 
 
 He will accept whose awful throne 
 
 Is built on it, and He demands 
 
 Clean hves, clean lips, and honest hands. 
 
 "SHE'S ALL THE WORLD TO ME.' 
 
 Altho' I know she's getting old, 
 
 As I can plainly see ; 
 Her pretty hair more gray than gold — 
 
 She's all the world to me. 
 
 Her sweet dark eyes no longer shine 
 As when from sorrow free. 
 
 Yet thrill they still this heart of mine; 
 In them her love I see. 
 
 Her shapely hands, so soft and white 
 When she was twenty-three, 
 
 Are not so now, and yet, despite, 
 
 They pretty seem to me, j, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 83 
 
 WeVe stood together at the grave 
 
 That hid our babes away. 
 God took the loved ones that He gave 
 
 In sorrow's darksome day. 
 
 United by a thousand ties 
 
 That bind our hearts as one — 
 
 A woman's love the richest prize 
 To man beneath the sun. 
 
 And now, descending hand in hand 
 
 Life's last declivity, 
 Unrealiz'd much that we plann'd, 
 
 She's all the world to me. 
 
 Together now, for forty years 
 
 On matrimonial sea. 
 In calm, in storm, in joy and tears 
 
 She's all the world to me. 
 
 Our boys now to manhood grown, 
 
 Have left the parent tree. 
 And now since we are left alone 
 
 She's doubly dear to me. 
 
 Our quiet evenings we spend 
 
 Before the cheerful blaze. 
 And tho' Romance is at an end. 
 
 Yet something better says. 
 
 Two hearts that long have beat as one. 
 Thank God, are still the same. 
 
 Nor winter's chill, nor summer's sun 
 Can change love's steady flame. 
 
 We both have reached the Golden Age 
 
 Of hfe — the sunset glow 
 That gilds the past on ev'ry page, 
 
 And hallows Long Ago. 
 
84 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Tho' she has pass'd beneath the rod- 
 Care written in each line — 
 
 Her sorrows, by the grace of God, 
 Have made her face divine. 
 
 Oh ! God, forbid that ever I 
 
 In her decHning years 
 Should ever even make her sigh, 
 
 Much less incite her tears. 
 
 LINES TO LAURA. 
 
 All that is sinless, stainless. 
 The human heart can know, 
 I feel when I am with thee, 
 Thy beauty makes it so. 
 
 Oh, tell me not the angels. 
 Who flame beyond the skies. 
 Are never seen beneath them. 
 And in an earthly guise. 
 
 As I behold the beauty 
 
 Of thy seraphic face. 
 
 It makes me think of Heaven, 
 
 Of worlds of love and grace. 
 
 Nor chisel of the sculptor. 
 Nor brush of masters tell 
 By stroke of subtlest genius 
 The magic of thy spell. 
 
 X 
 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 Mysterious Book ! outliving age and time, 
 
 And standing still, foursquare to all the 
 world. 
 Like fortress vast, impervious and sublime, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 85 
 
 Withstanding all th' assaults against it 
 hurFd, 
 Aye, calm amid the storms, it came to stay 
 Until the fires of the Judgment Day. 
 
 Revealing Book ! alone in it we trace 
 
 How life began upon this globe of ours. 
 
 Shows God — not Science, creator of the race, 
 
 When man derived his high and godlike 
 powers. 
 
 Without simian process, but at a stroke, 
 
 Man rose in fullness when his Maker spoke. 
 
 Surpassing volume, whose prophets, priests and 
 kings 
 
 Are seen in action on its wondrous stage. 
 Where poet, greater e'en than Homer sings. 
 
 And lends enchantment to its sacred page. 
 Where worlds unseen are open to our view. 
 And songs celestial, sung by angels, tec. 
 
 Restoring Book ! sole hope of f alFn man, 
 In it reveaFd contains the wondrous scheme 
 
 Of his redemption before the world began, 
 Nor this alone, the key to ev'ry theme, 
 
 That staggers science, life beyond the grave. 
 Which souls immortal e'er by nature crave. 
 
 Consoling Book, where sore and brok'n hearts 
 With whom the world and life have gone 
 amiss 
 
 Here solace find, and refuge from the darts 
 Of fortune hard, anticipated bliss 
 
 Can sweeten death, destroy its dreadful look 
 
 To all who lean in that dark hour upon this Book. 
 
 MY LITTLE WHITE FLOWER. 
 
 It is only a flower, yet I prize it, I love it. 
 For the message it brings from the heaven 
 above it. 
 
86 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Its message, God loves us, in language so plain, 
 That we never should doubt it nor murmur again. 
 
 'Tis love that has given it beauty so rare 
 That Solomon's glory seems empty and bare 
 The sweet breath of heaven is in its perfume, 
 And the beauty of angels is seen in its bloom. 
 
 When I am dishearten'd, I sit by the hour, 
 
 Look on it and feel all its wonderful power 
 
 To soothe and console me, "Why should you 
 
 be sad," 
 Says my sweet little flower? "Look up and 
 
 be glad." 
 
 When the hour has come, as it cometh to all, 
 When I, like a leaf of the forest, must fall. 
 May some friend remember this tribute I gave 
 And my little white flower plant close to my grave. 
 
 "BEAUTIFUL WESTOVER." 
 
 Beautiful Westover, majestic country seat, 
 Where History and Romance perforce must ever 
 
 meet, 
 Where chivalry and beauty in full-orbed splendor 
 
 shone, 
 And made this home the brightest the Western 
 
 world had known. 
 
 Beautiful Westover, it kindles to a blaze 
 The bright historic fancy of old Colonial Days, 
 When courtly sons of England within its ample 
 
 walls. 
 Beheld the costly splendor of their ancestral halls. 
 Beautiful Westover, it bursts upon the sight 
 Like some strange dream of beauty that thrills us 
 
 in the night. 
 Yet leaves us melancholy, forebodings, full of fear 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 87 
 
 That beauty of Westover is of the dreams that 
 were. I 
 
 ■Rpautif ul Westover, it is thy heart and soul, 
 Whose spe^ as yet unbroken, to fascinate control 
 The mind disposed to wander, to bmd and hold 
 
 it fast 
 Not to the living present, but to the buried past. 
 "The whole worid loves a lover." a maiden or 
 
 And when "the 'course of true love, that never 
 
 smoothly ran, 
 Has ended in disaster, full ^y^ecked in every way 
 All hearts bestow the p.ty demed them in 
 
 their day. 
 Hence Beautiful Westover, though cavaliers may 
 
 And courtly ^splendors dazzle, another spell is 
 
 A spell as^yet' unbroken, though centuries have 
 
 That makef us turn from living to fair Westover 
 
 dpad 
 The spirit of a maiden, the fairest of the fair. 
 Whose presence seems abiding, aye. ever living 
 
 And tho'Vestover modem may charm you with 
 
 Yet that which fascinates you— its story of a 
 heart. 
 
 ) 
 Her genius all pervading the grand, historic place 
 It fairiy seems to haunt you. aye. look you in 
 
 ReveaUng^to^ y'oi love-light that shone within 
 
 See her f^alr bCm rising and falling with her 
 sighs. 
 
 Hence. Beautiful Westover! Sweet Evelyn to me 
 
88 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Today 'tis a reminder, a monument to thee ; 
 Tho' cruel flames destroy its beauty and its art, 
 Yet never, the immortal — the story of thy heart. 
 
 "THE TRUE CHURCH." 
 
 'Tis common to all in the weakness of youth. 
 To doubt not the errors which are taught them 
 
 for truth. 
 But God gives to mortals no power to bind 
 Or shackle his image — the fetterless mind ; 
 For His is a temple not fashioned by art, 
 And the only true Church is a sanctified heart. 
 
 GOD IS LOVE. 
 
 God is Love, 'tis Love creates 
 
 The only heaven here below. 
 
 Tis Love alone that animates 
 
 And gives to life its charm and glow. 
 
 The sweetest song that's sung in Heaven 
 By angels with their tongues of fire, 
 Is that alone which Love has given, 
 That only which Love could inspire. 
 
 TO A DECEIVER. 
 
 Smile on. Fair One, and still deceive 
 Another unsuspecting youth. 
 Still cause some stripling to believe 
 Thy protestations are but truth. 
 
 Some callow youth, one who never knew 
 The witcheries of woman's art, 
 Which you employ to subdue 
 And crush his unsuspecting heart. 
 
 Such memories in after years, 
 
 'Twould seem would crush a heart of stone, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 89 
 
 But I forget, you have no tears 
 For any sorrows save your own. 
 
 I am not bitter, but despise 
 A nature lost to sense of shame, 
 Aye, one whose only pleasure lies 
 In things no honest girl would claim. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Love cannot be forced. Love cannot be wrought, 
 Nor fashioned in beauty by labor and art. 
 All true love is won before it is sought, 
 And never comes right till it comes from the 
 heart. 
 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY. 
 
 Napoleon amazing. Napoleon sublime, 
 Napoleon colossal, man of all time ; 
 
 Titanic, immense; 
 Changed continent's map, fiird earth with his 
 
 fame, 
 Yet dying alone, with only a name ; 
 
 Ye gods ! how intense 
 And strenous the life whose brilliance began 
 When Europe was flaming for freedom of man 
 
 From thralldom of kings ; 
 When Bastiles were blazing, blood flowing like 
 
 wine 
 From necks of the noblest and rulers divine, 
 
 As "Marseillaise" rings. 
 
 When Corps Legislatif had vanished away, 
 And dreaded convention, as tho* it would stay, 
 
 Had come to the fore. 
 Where Marat the monster and Vergniaud 
 
 profonde, 
 Cordelier and Jacobin, timid Gironde 
 
 Contend on its floor; 
 
90 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Where voice of Danton, defiant, aflame, 
 The tocsin of murder rings out to proclaim 
 
 To guillotine all. 
 Dread son of the "Mountain," behold in his glance 
 The storm that is pending o'er unhappy France, 
 
 And ready to fall; 
 Aye, Danton, audacious, his sway is supreme ; 
 The Gironde is silent, e'en Robespierre is tame; 
 
 'Tis Danton alone 
 Can ride out the temptest and master the waves 
 Of passion for murder by rabble of slaves, 
 
 So awful his tone. 
 
 Ah, Danton is fallen, ah, Danton is dead; 
 The Prince of the Jacobins loses his head 
 
 Like thousands before ; 
 Danton, who dar'd, undermin'd by a mole, 
 By Robespierre the cruel, the damnable soul, 
 
 Now holding the floor; 
 That monster of murder, that deep degradation 
 Of Liberty's Cause, that impersonation 
 
 Of devils in hell. 
 And he, too, is dying, who need but be heard 
 On a whisper just now, and at his bare word 
 
 The guillotine fell. 
 
 Fit stage for the actor now to appear. 
 
 Fit time for beginning that wondrous career 
 
 He only awaits 
 The uplifted curtain ere stepping on stage; 
 'Till Revolution finish its terrible page 
 
 Decreed by the fates. 
 The hour is striking, he saw it afar. 
 The Great Man of Destiny arose with his star, 
 
 It lighten'd the skies. 
 And shone o'er the wreck that weakness and guilt 
 Had rear'd o'er bones and blood it had spilt 
 
 In Liberty's guise. 
 "Assassins and cutthroats, villains and knaves! 
 Whose power but rests on a rabble of slaves, 
 
 Your Master is here! 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 91 
 
 Avaunt, weak wretches; abandon the stage; 
 The Man of the Hour, the Man of the Age, 
 
 Is now to appear. 
 The saviour of France, whose rulers and Kings 
 Have ceas'd to exist, and end of all things 
 
 Seems nearly at hand; 
 When Chaos exists, and Order has flown, 
 The Great Man of Destiny comes to his own, 
 
 By Heaven's command ; 
 To scatter the rabble with right to demand 
 The freedom of playing his masterful hand 
 
 And making claim good, 
 As Titan alone, who tempest can stay. 
 Ere Order and France are both swept away 
 
 In torrents of blood. 
 On plains of the Caesars, with pinions outspread 
 Of Eagles of France, his legions he led 
 
 And 'gan that career 
 Which startled the world, and dazzles it still, 
 With wond'rous achievements of genius and will, 
 
 Without a compeer. 
 At Jena and Wagram, great Austerlitz, 
 'The Emperor's Battle," the victor he sits, 
 
 O'ertopping them all ; 
 The monarchs of Europe, with armies combin'd, 
 No match for the powerful, masterful mind 
 
 They fain would forestall. 
 
 But why seek to follow that wondrous career, 
 Which weak men revile, which strong men revere, 
 
 E'en down to this day? 
 Now master of Europe, the world at his beck ; 
 Now tortur'd by exile, seeing the wreck 
 
 Of world pass'd away. 
 Like soms tow'ring poplar, some migthy oak, 
 Whose top in the heavens, inviting the stroke, 
 
 Aye, daring its glance. 
 Proud son of the Titans, he lifted his head. 
 The thunderbolt strikes, and Napoleon is dead. 
 
 The idol of France. 
 
92 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Napoleon is dead, that fortress, that tower, 
 That marvel of mind, that mountain of power, 
 
 Is level'd at last. 
 In history's Pantheon, without a pretense. 
 The Corsican stands, gigantic, immense, 
 
 And never surpassed. 
 
 EDGAR ALLEN POE. 
 
 Bard of that mysterious realm, 
 Whose Stygian horrors overwhelm 
 
 All timid breasts; 
 A modem Dante to explore, 
 And call from "Horror's haunted shore" 
 
 Ill-omen'd guests. 
 
 And yet with what consummate art 
 Amidst all this he moves the heart 
 
 With brighter things ; 
 For e'en from dark Plutonian shore 
 He asks for lov'd and lost Lenore, 
 
 Of whom he sings. 
 
 The pathos of his life too deep 
 For human speech, nor can we weep, 
 
 But stand aghast. 
 That one so gifted and so strong 
 In mental power should go wrong 
 
 And fail at last. 
 
 There was an unseen undertow 
 
 'Gainst which he strove, but could not go 
 
 Beyond its pale. 
 Some syren, whose bewitching song 
 Prevented him and made the wrong 
 
 O'er him prevail. 
 
 Thrown on an unresponsive age, 
 Damn'd in advance, he trod the stage 
 Without acclaim ; 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUS E ^8 
 
 While critics sneer, and rivals frown 
 And friends pretended wrote him down 
 When exit came. 
 
 To beauty of poetic art. 
 
 He gave to this his utmost heart 
 
 And highest skill, 
 As shown by what he left behind. 
 The weird creations of his mmd 
 
 That charm us still. 
 
 Like beauteous column, rent in twain, 
 UnfinishM must his life remam, 
 
 And still it met 
 His destiny in ev'ry way, 
 Unrecognized in his own day. 
 
 And riddle yet. 
 
 Nor is this all, his cruel fate 
 Pursued him with relentless hate 
 
 Beyond the tomb; 
 For after death no surcease came. 
 And e'en his country's Hall of Fame 
 
 Denied him room. 
 
 One solitary ray appears 
 
 Above the darkness of his years. 
 
 Whose radiant gleam 
 Illumines them with heavenly hg^t— 
 Tis his Virginia, pure and bright— 
 
 A poet's dream. 
 
 *Tis written in the book of Fate, 
 That justice comes to all who wait. 
 
 If slow, yet sure: 
 Tis his today, his wondrous rhyme 
 Wins Halls of Fame in ev'ry chme 
 
 That will endure. 
 
94 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 THE POET'S WISH 
 
 Oh, give me the wind that sighs 
 
 From soft Eolian caves, 
 Oh, give me the dreams that rise 
 
 Like Venus from the waves, 
 Oh, give me the unreal. 
 
 Bright worlds of love and grace 
 I live in the ideal. 
 
 And loathe the common place. 
 
 TRANSMIGRATION. 
 
 If spirits of men as philosopher said 
 Find homes after death in the bosom of birds 
 Of reptiles and beast, as I long ago read, 
 (But cannot believe any truth in the words) 
 But if it were true, then my soul would desire 
 When leaving this tenement frail 
 To find its last home in the bird I admire 
 In bosom of sweet nightingale. 
 
 Then I would return in the silence of night 
 From depths of forest or grove 
 And fly to her window in the gentle twilight, 
 And sing to the maiden I love. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 Creation smiles and owns its sway, 
 Sun, moon and stars its laws obey. 
 The very rhythm of the sea 
 Is but Love pitched in liquid key. 
 
 "APPRECIATION." 
 
 When Love's sweet song has spent itself in vain, 
 And coldness meets its elements of fire, 
 Like barren waste that drinks the genial rain. 
 And yields naught else, except the thorn and brier, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 95 
 
 Love's soul recoils as from an icy blast, 
 Within its self and knows its day is past. 
 
 Just as a flower that blooms in lone retreat 
 Soon fades away in short-liv'd beauty there, 
 Denied the dew, the sun's inspiring heat. 
 It breathes from birth a pestilential air. 
 So heavenly genius, neglected in its day, 
 Just as the flower, it too will fade away. 
 
 'EVENTIDE. 
 
 My day is drawing to a close. 
 To me, to all, the signal shows, 
 
 Tis manifest. 
 The heavy ear, the eye grown dim. 
 The aching back, the trembling limb 
 
 By years opprest. 
 
 And other signs that never fail 
 Of old age, tell pathetic tale. 
 
 I love to dwell 
 On things and scenes of long ago. 
 Which make my aged bosom glow, 
 
 My heart to swell. 
 
 I ramble thro' the woods and streams. 
 And dream again my boyish dreams, 
 
 Ah, sweet young days ! 
 I see the creek where oft I took 
 Such delight with line and hook, 
 
 And lengthened stays. 
 When sitting on its banks to dream 
 Of "strings" of fish within the stream 
 
 That would be mine. 
 
 But cease ! I must revert to age, 
 To life in last and final stage, 
 Now nearly o'er. 
 
96 LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 "The salt of time," as Shakespeare says, 
 Must season all my speech and ways 
 While on this shore. 
 
 "Life a success?" Why, Yes and No, 
 According as you view it tho*. 
 
 If wealth, why, nay. 
 My "holdings" and my "goods" are small- 
 Enough for Charon, that is all 
 
 That's mine today. 
 
 I never yet have felt the "craze" 
 For wealth, so common nowadays 
 
 Nor do I care 
 For all the dross of Vanderbilt, 
 Or a colossal fortune built 
 
 By means unfair. 
 
 A sure and steadfast hope of Heaven, 
 I neither now, nor would have given 
 
 This staff or rod 
 For all earth's fame, or wealth, or dower, 
 Or genius of titanic power. 
 
 Yet without God. 
 
 Am I unhappy ? Not at all. 
 
 My life's been large with fortune small. 
 
 I've had the best. 
 The riches of the mind and heart. 
 Religion, literature and art 
 
 Have made me blest. 
 
 The splendors of life's rising sun 
 Once charm'd, and now declining one 
 
 Has glories too. 
 The joy of a life well-spent. 
 Of serving God with pure intent. 
 
 And Heaven in view. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 97 
 
 And when at last the shimmering hght 
 Of life goes out, and seeming night 
 
 Asserts its sway, 
 I feel assured that I shall rise. 
 And meet my Saviour in the skies 
 
 On that great day. 
 
 THE SUN— AN APOSTROPHE. 
 
 Hail, wondrous Light! No language can rehearse, 
 Nor reason fathom, nor f ancy*s flight 
 
 E'er soar so high, thyself an universe— 
 Too vast for man by his unaided might 
 
 To comprehend. Almighty power alone 
 
 Spake into being the splendors of thy throne. 
 
 "Let there be Light," and o'er the boundless deep 
 Of chaos flashed what man beholds today — 
 
 The image of that eye whose boundless sweep 
 Beholds all things, and naught so far away, 
 
 Or else so near but that he sees it all— 
 "A hero perish, or a sparrow fall." 
 
 Tho' science guess until the day of doom, 
 And try to fathom, to analyze, explam 
 
 Thine origin, oh, why, vain man, presume ^ 
 To find a reason beyond the human bram, 
 
 For science fails and reason stands aghast 
 And flees from matter to its God at last. 
 
 No wonder, then, the child of nature bows 
 
 In adoration to thee, oh, Sun ! 
 To thee directs his homage and his vows, 
 
 Thou art to him the uncreated One, 
 The seat of life, as well as nature's nurse, 
 
 His explanation of the universe. 
 
 As we behold thy splendor day by day, , , ^ , 
 Whose light brings blessing to ev'ry land and 
 
98 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Are we not worse when we no tribute pay 
 
 Than pagan worshippers, who honor thee ? 
 
 Better for those who in their darkness fall 
 Than live in light and have no God at all. 
 
 And yet, Great Luminary, thy light shall fail, 
 And thy mild sister be suffusM with blood 
 
 In that Great Day, when all the earth shall wail 
 As nature reels beneath the shock of God ! 
 
 The heavens shake in tokens of His ire, 
 
 And naught be left except a world on fire ! 
 
 "BIRDS OF A FEATHER." 
 
 A world of spirits is denied 
 
 By skeptics with a sneer. 
 
 As well as one and all who've tried 
 
 To "raise the Devil" here. 
 
 The Doubter, while denying Hell, 
 Yet says there ought to be, 
 To hold that other fellow, well, 
 Whos' not so good as he. 
 
 Another argues somewhat this, 
 "No Hell," yet will agree 
 There is a Heaven, place of bliss. 
 Of course, for such as he. 
 
 Well, how are we to reconcile 
 Such variance, great or small. 
 Unless we put them in a pile. 
 Say "Devil" take them all. 
 
 THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 
 
 Yes, he had sins to answer for, of this you may 
 
 be sure; 
 He sometimes drank until he was drunk, when 
 
 ^ngry often he swore. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 99 
 
 And yet more sympathetic heart than his I'm sure 
 
 never knew ; 
 He was a friend whom all could trust, for he was 
 
 ever true. 
 
 The poor of his whole neighborhood did love him, 
 
 one and all ; 
 He was a doctor and his skill was ever at their call. 
 He was no quack, nor montebank, now you should 
 
 understand 
 His sheep-skin, it was just as good as any in the 
 
 land. 
 
 A patient without bank account he honored all the 
 
 same, 
 His call as good as any check with Rockefeller's 
 
 name; 
 Nay, more, when needy ones were sick for want 
 
 of nourishment 
 He straightway to his grocer hied and saw that 
 
 food was sent. 
 
 Thro' Summer's heat and Winter's cold, for more 
 
 than thirty years. 
 Up hill and down, by day and night, his services 
 
 were theirs. 
 When he was sick the poor ones came inquiring 
 
 at his door; 
 It seemed as if their hearts would break to see his 
 
 face no more. 
 
 Ere long he died, was laid away in humble country 
 
 grave. 
 Among the people whom he loved, to whom his 
 
 life he gave. 
 He was no saint, made no pretense to piety we call. 
 But spent his life in doing good to others, that 
 
 was all. 
 
 Now what I'd like to know is this, which for one 
 stronger pleads 
 
100 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 The talking of angelic things, or doing kindly 
 deeds ? 
 
 What went with him beyond the grave is not for 
 me to say, 
 
 But, still I feel God cared for him who gave him- 
 self away. 
 
 *TUT GRASS IN HIS *LICKER.' " 
 
 A Virginian well-vers'd in the magical art 
 
 Of making mint- juleps went down to a part 
 
 Of South Carolina, proposing to spend 
 
 A couple of weeks with an old college friend. 
 
 This self -same Virginian, like all of his class 
 
 Before the great war, was fond of his glass, 
 
 Yet truth would demand that I should relate 
 
 He took it in juleps, and never drank "straight." 
 
 This being the case, of course on his trip, 
 
 He was dry as a bone, for he hadn't a sip, 
 
 And when he got down to the home of his friend 
 
 He was thirsty and tired, yes you may depend, 
 
 His Palmetto friend, surmising all this. 
 
 And knowing a drink would add to his bliss. 
 
 To his side-board repaired and dencanter brought 
 
 forth 
 All fill'd to the brim for his friend from the North 
 Saying, "Gome up old chum let's take a good *nip' 
 To wash down the cobwebs that form'd on your 
 
 trip." 
 Then said the Virginian, "My friend, do you know 
 How to make a mint julep?" His friend answered 
 
 "No." 
 And then the Virginian, he saw at a glance 
 How to make his friend happy, and he seized on 
 
 the chance. 
 Says he, "Carolina, have you any mint?" 
 "Yes ! down at the spring ; there isn't a stint." 
 "Well, get me a bunch, some sugar and ice, 
 And a julep we'll have done up in a trice." 
 And this being done, as quick as a wink, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 101 
 
 The blue-blood concocted his wonderful drink, 
 
 Then gave to his friend, saying, "Drink it and tell 
 
 If you ever tasted what could it excel 
 
 In dram-drinking line in all of your days ?" 
 
 ^'Zounds V says Carolina, "beyond all the praise 
 
 'Tis A Number One. In honor I swear 
 
 I never drank aught that dares to compare, 
 
 (As he drained the last drop). It beats by the 
 
 odds 
 Greek Jupiter's nectar — the drink of the gods." 
 Of course, they "fell to" day in and day out 
 Of what we would call a high drinking-bout 
 For more than a week, and neither, methinks, 
 Ever said to the other, "Long time between 
 
 drinks." 
 Two years after this, the Virginian once more 
 Turned face to the South, as he had done before, 
 And by easy stages erelong came in sight 
 Of home of his friend, the Palmetto Knight. 
 He spied an old negro, engaged in his task 
 Of hoeing the cotton, and ventured to ask, 
 "I say. Uncle Ned, how's Master today?" 
 "How's ole Marster? 'Mister,' is dat what you 
 
 say? 
 "Wy, ole marster dead, yas, he dead for shore," 
 For I dig the grave a whole year and more." 
 "Your Old Master dead!" (and catching his 
 
 breath) 
 "Why, what in the world was the cause of his 
 
 death?" 
 "Well, Mister, I tells you, 'twas jes dis er way, 
 A man from Ferginny, he cum here one day 
 'Bout two year ago, and show'd Marster how 
 "Put grass in his licker ;" and so he dead now, 
 For ole Marster lub dat new fangled stuff 
 And the pizen what kilt him, and dat's sho enuff." 
 
 AN APOSTROPHE TO MONEY. 
 
 Oh, money, I would sing of thee 
 
102 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 As one true constant friend to me, 
 Nor would exchange thy meanest coin 
 For many things that some enjoin 
 As being better, I have found 
 Small sympathy above the ground 
 When penniless from such as bore 
 With much advice when one is poor, 
 The very same should wealth accrue, 
 For good advice will come to you, 
 And take your dullest platitude 
 For high-grade intellectual food. 
 Who would not give you audience 
 When you were poor with all your sense. 
 
 When sickness comes and pains invade, 
 Tis money brings the needed aid, 
 While scores of sympathising friends 
 Inquire if the patient mends. 
 If poor, they argue, it is best 
 To let the pauper go to rest. 
 But should the rich man chance to die. 
 They laud his virtues to the sky, 
 Bewail the loss the neighborhood 
 Has suffer'd, losing one so good, 
 Altho' too stingy during life 
 To spend a penny on his wife. 
 Save pittance, when the law demands 
 A good support from husband's hands. 
 And at his fun'ral preachers try 
 To put him through the needle's eye. 
 And land the skin-flint in the sky. 
 
 But should rich patient's health return, 
 The Doctors merit all they earn. 
 And can rejoice, knowing well 
 They kept the miser out of hell. 
 
 All classes, rich as well as poor 
 
 Alike the money-god adore. 
 
 And tradesmen sharp of every kind 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 103 
 
 Are to their interest never blind. 
 The millers every day and hour 
 Are praying for a "rise" in flour. 
 The bakers then to meet the "rise," 
 Will make their loaves of undersize. 
 
 The undertaker, solemn, gruff, 
 Thinks folks not dying fast enough. 
 Unless more shall pass away 
 Cries "Ruin" with his "Bills to Pay." 
 E'en priest and preachers nowadays 
 Acknowledge money's winning ways, 
 Hard to convince they have a call 
 To other charge when pay is small, 
 While candidates for office use 
 The very language of the stews 
 About each other, try to prove 
 For people their undying love. 
 When aucontraire, the truth to say, 
 Deprive the office of its pay. 
 Their eloquence would cease to flow, 
 "Let office go to Jerico." 
 
 If you would know a friend as true. 
 Go ask him to indorse for you. 
 With what politeness he refuses. 
 What rueful face and fair excuses. 
 And ends it when you hear him say, 
 "I've not a cent in bank today." 
 But let some lucky scheme arise 
 Whereby his "wad" may grow in size. 
 You'll see your sympathetic friend 
 Raise money almost without end. 
 Don't lose your temper, cry out "Shame,' 
 Reverse the case ; you'd do the same. 
 
 You fall in love, you sigh and yearn 
 To know just how your suit will turn. 
 Consult your pocket, it decides 
 Your fate with most of modem brides. 
 
104 LYRICS OF T HE LOST CAUSE 
 
 If full, for you it turns the scale, 
 As Byron says, where seraphs fail 
 
 Money! I could sing thy power 
 Until my life's remotest hour, 
 And then, like Sheba's Queen of old, 
 Exclaim the half had not been told. 
 For thee parental hearts are steePd 
 Whenever they to Mammon yield. 
 In vain the weeping daughter sues 
 For mercy, she must not refuse 
 The wealthy rake, the carnal brute, 
 With money to abet his suit 
 
 The day is set, a gorgeous show 
 Of preparation, grand trousseau. 
 And costly jewels, gems that shine. 
 The brightest from the richest mine; 
 Rare flowers in their sweet perfume 
 And beauty deck the wedding room. 
 Selections from the masters charm 
 The happy guests. Where is the harm 
 In such a marriage? If you will, 
 1*11 say there's something lacking stilU 
 And that one thing, all else above — 
 The soul of marriage — which is love. 
 Pause woman, ev'ry vow you tell. 
 When lacking this, entrances hell 
 Satanic laughter in each strain 
 Of wedding march, a sad refrain. 
 
 The dirge of ruin'd womanhood. 
 The death of all within you good. 
 While angels weep in realms above 
 O'er crimes done in the name of love. 
 
 Far otherwise when wedding bell 
 Rings out and marriage joys tell 
 When loving hearts and willing hand* 
 Are pledged for life an angel stands 
 
LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 105 
 
 At such an altar, God above. 
 
 Smiles on a marriage built on love, 
 
 If otherwise, then we repeat 
 
 The wedding march, tho' e'er so sweet, 
 
 Is dirge of ruin'd womanhood. 
 
 The death in her of all that's good. 
 
 Can such a union ere be blest, 
 
 Where love is not? No, all the rest 
 
 Cannot atone ; devoid of this. 
 
 But mockery of domestic bliss. 
 
 What parody on happy state 
 
 That poets sing, both small and great. 
 
 "She married well," the world applauds. 
 
 Her motive better than a bawd's? 
 
 No, not at all, except the pelf 
 
 And time for which she sells herself. 
 
 Apart from this 'tis not denied 
 
 That money has a nobler side 
 
 Beyond all else, when rightly used 
 
 (And not, as we have shown, abus'd) 
 
 Has blessed the world ten thousand ways 
 
 In spite of all the cynic says, 
 
 Made flowers in the desert bloom. 
 
 Brought peace and joy in the room 
 
 Of poverty, and brought to light 
 
 The nobleness that should incite 
 
 To higher endeavor when applied 
 
 To stimulate a nation's pride 
 
 To highest things that move the heart, 
 
 Promotion of the Healing Art, 
 
 The love of Music, Literature, 
 
 The cause of Christ, and all things pure, 
 
 Here money shines without alloy 
 
 And brings to man his highest joy. 
 
 THE MODERN JUPITER 
 
 Jupiter! King of gods and men^ 
 
106 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Didst thou forecast and therefore ken 
 
 The day would be, 
 When men, professing to be wise. 
 
 Would mock thy lordship of the skies, 
 
 Nay, laugh at Thee 
 As superstition, or a myth 
 No man of sense would trifle with 
 
 Except in verse? 
 So this, you see, is quite a fall 
 For one supposed as lord of all 
 
 The universe. 
 
 But Jupiter! Thou art not dead, 
 Thy name is changed, we have instead, 
 
 As you may see, 
 A modern, not the ancient god. 
 Obedient to whose beck and 
 
 We bend the knee. 
 And tho' Olympus flames no more. 
 Yet temples rise on ev'ry shore 
 
 And incense burns 
 In golden censers to placate 
 His nostrils, priests officiate 
 
 And take their turns 
 Without dismission, lest they should. 
 By lack of skill, fail "to make good," 
 
 In modern phrase: 
 If so dismissed without a word 
 Of explanation being heard 
 
 These strenuous days. 
 
 Voracious god ! he fain would fill 
 His belly, yet is hungry still. 
 
 And calls for more. 
 Tho* millions be in treasure chest, 
 A dollar out, he cannot rest 
 
 Till he secure 
 The utmost farthing, and will use 
 His pow'r fierce, should one refuse 
 
 To him to yield. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 107 
 
 A god of blood ! no juggernaut 
 Has ever such havoc wrought, 
 Or caus'd more pain. 
 
 What god is this of which you sing? 
 We answer, he is god and king, 
 
 The god of Gain 
 And at his shrine all nations bow 
 
 With abject tone. 
 Of whisp'ring humbleness to please 
 The ears of him naught can appease 
 
 Save gain alone. 
 What victims on his altars burn, 
 What cruelties that men may earn 
 
 His favor now. 
 In shops, in factories, beneath 
 The earth itself they bind the wreath 
 
 That decks his brow. 
 
 Love, once the passion called "supreme," 
 This god pronounces "empty dream," 
 
 The thought of fools. 
 For you must know and calculate 
 That all high things are out of date 
 
 Where Mammon rules. 
 
 E'en genius with its hallow'd trust 
 Before him wallows in the dust. 
 And sings his praises, talents lent 
 Alone for human betterment 
 
 Extol the knave. 
 See Kipling, whose entrancing pen 
 Was once delight of fellow-men, 
 
 Now using skill. 
 Not to advance a cause so sweet 
 As Liberty's, but to defeat 
 
 The people's will. 
 
 And Gotham, the magnificent, 
 Of Western World, all torn and rent 
 By vice unfurl'd, 
 
108 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 See trusted guardians of her laws 
 Go "hand in glove," make common cause 
 
 With underworld 
 In fleeing victims, tribute lay- 
 On dens of infamy that pay 
 
 The price of shame ; 
 Disgrace the uniforms they wear. 
 And violate the oaths they swear 
 
 In justice's name. 
 
 In politics 'twere sad to trace 
 Each step from glory to disgrace 
 
 Since that high day 
 When Calhoun, Clay and Webster stood 
 In Senate for their country's good 
 
 In ev'ry way; 
 When not a breath of scandal rose 
 E'en from their most invet'rate foes 
 
 To mar their fame; 
 When merit was the test alone 
 For office high and "graft" unknown, 
 
 And ways of shame. 
 
 But why the painful theme prolong ? 
 The god of gain, the god of wrong 
 
 Rules world today. 
 Oh, may some moral Hercules 
 Arise and cleanse such spots as these. 
 
 These monsters slay. 
 
 "THE DESCENT OF MAN." 
 
 'Tis written that Athena sprung 
 Full armed from brain of Jove, 
 
 And took at once her place among 
 The gods of famous "Grove." 
 
 This fiction, once so well believ'd. 
 Is in dishonor now ; 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 109 
 
 Mankind are otherwise deceived, 
 And I will tell you how. 
 
 There is extant a Book today 
 
 Oft miscaird Holy Writ, 
 Which tells us how man came this way, 
 
 How on this sphere he lit. 
 
 Of course, this book is obsolete 
 
 In cultured circles, sure ; 
 And takes its place with things effete, 
 
 Like other things of yore. 
 
 Instead, true Science says today — 
 
 And Science never lies — 
 Man came to earth by monkey-way, 
 
 But never from the skies. 
 
 Now, Fm a doubter from way Dack, 
 
 Concerning Science here; 
 For when one leaves the Bible track 
 
 His way is never clear. 
 
 I can't subscribe, tho' others may, 
 
 As to man's present shape. 
 By his "descending" "up," they say. 
 
 To his ancestral "ape." 
 
 What contradictions are involved 
 
 In a misuse of terms; 
 What weighty problems left unsolved, 
 
 All reasoning confirms. 
 
 If to "descend" means but to "rise," 
 And "rise" means to "descend," 
 
 Then everything beneath the skies 
 Is topsy-turvy, friend. 
 
 This theory has quite upset 
 All that I learnt at school, 
 
110 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 And makes me think with sad regret 
 My teacher was a fool. 
 
 He taught "effects," must have a "cause/ 
 And this I once believ'd; 
 
 But Science spoke and made me pause, 
 It said I was deceived 
 
 This being so, another thought 
 
 Within my mind arose; 
 And I will name it, as I ought, 
 Tho' every scholar knows. 
 
 Tis this: Translations lose in force, 
 And hence we must allow 
 
 That man, when monkey, was, of course, 
 Much greater than he's now. 
 
 And in accordance with this rule, 
 Which Science should explain, 
 
 There once was held in monkey's skull 
 A great Newtonian brain. 
 
 A "miracle," I hear you say; 
 
 No, nothing of the kind, 
 Tis "evolution" — Nature's way — 
 
 With matter and with mind. 
 
 If I consent by giving nod 
 
 That Newton came that way, 
 
 Then "evolution" is a god, 
 
 Therefore, to him I'll pray. 
 
 0, "Evolution," pity me. 
 
 Thy weak and doubting child, 
 
 Who, tempted, fell, and stray'd away 
 At "Cahing of the Wild." 
 
 Poor Prodigal, I would return 
 Back to ancestral home, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 111 
 
 From man's domain — ^ah, how I yearn 
 Amid its woods to roam. 
 
 Restore me to that "Happy Age," 
 
 Ere I 'gan "evolute," 
 Transfer me upward to the stage 
 
 Of my ancestral brute. 
 
 Where not a wave of trouble rolls 
 Across the monkey's breast; 
 
 Where cocoanuts, instead of souls, 
 Are objects of his quest. 
 
 There I'd be useful from the fact 
 
 Of my experience here; 
 In case of need then I could act 
 
 As an interpreter. 
 
 When Doctor Games came along, 
 They then no more would balk, 
 
 For I could tell them in their tongue 
 Just how the monkeys talk. 
 
 Perhaps could get a monkey school. 
 
 Teach wicked little apes 
 The precepts of the Golden Rule 
 
 And morals in all shapes. 
 
 If politicians who would seek 
 
 For office with a bribe 
 Could teach them all just how to "squeak" 
 
 The language of the tribe. 
 
 Or if they have a "State machine," 
 
 In country or in town, 
 Could teach them how to "bear and grin" 
 
 When it has mow'd them down. 
 
 Be privileged to have a seat 
 With scientific ape. 
 
112 LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 See evolution in concrete, 
 
 Aye, see it taking shape. 
 
 See tails drop off ere long, and then^ 
 Descending from the tree 
 
 Its forelegs turn to arms of men, 
 And monkey cease to be. 
 
 But "like** its "like" begets, they say. 
 Wherever Science delves; 
 
 But men, without this law, today 
 Make monkeys of themselves. 
 
 Science, then, well understood. 
 
 Responsive to its call, 
 It will, no doubt, in "making good,** 
 
 Make monkeys of us all. 
 
 My prayer was heard and I was chang*d 
 In twinkling of an eye ; 
 
 Again the woods and groves I ranged, 
 Man-monkey, tho*, O, my! 
 
 They told me of a hermit there. 
 Apart from all the rest. 
 
 Who hid himself they knew not where, 
 But in a cave, they guess*d. 
 
 I hunted for him far and wide, 
 Thro* jungles dark and long. 
 
 Until at length I him espied 
 In cavern deep and strong. 
 
 I had been told that he was wild 
 And fierce; it was not so; 
 
 I found him gentle as a child 
 And not a monster; no! 
 
 I saw he was a fellow-man. 
 He knew that I was, too ; 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 113 
 
 And then forthwith 'tween us began 
 The following interview: 
 
 My friend, says I, how came you here, 
 
 And what on earth has led 
 You to forsake man's higher sphere 
 
 For this damp cavern bed? 
 
 He answered me as best he could, 
 
 But in a "squeaking'* key; 
 Said that his "English" was not good, 
 
 Since learning "Chatteree." 
 
 Now, Chatteree, you understand, 
 
 Is what the monkeys use. 
 The dialect of Chatterland, 
 
 In which they give their views. 
 
 "Well, sir, in early life I read 
 Darwin's ^Descent of Man'; 
 
 It put strange notions in my head 
 Of how I first began. 
 
 "I could not rest, so here I came, 
 
 And strove for many years 
 To study monkeys — see what claim 
 
 To man ship there appears. 
 
 "I cultivated chimpanzees, 
 
 Orangs, baboons and all; 
 But could not learn from all of these 
 
 The object of my call. 
 
 "I mean that ^Missing Link', he said, 
 Of which I'd read so much, 
 
 For monkeys brown and black and red 
 Were 'all the same in Dutch.' 
 
 "My quest I gave up in despair, 
 
 Alas! it was too late, ., 
 
114 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 My clothes all gone, I was too bare 
 For former decent state. 
 
 ^ J "Now go back home and tell it loud, 
 N^ 0, do so for my sake ; 
 
 i^ Tell Garner and his monkey crowd 
 •■"^ Evolution is a ^fake/ " 
 
 ^^ 
 
 "THE NEW WOMAN. 
 
 C s^ She has a varied knowledge 
 
 That she picked up at college, 
 Of quadratics, hydrostatics, 
 
 Still holding to them fast. 
 She's stuffed with erudition 
 As you stuff a leather cushion; 
 All ologies of colleges, 
 
 And knowledge of the past. 
 
 She's mistress of the lexicons , 
 Of Aztecs and the Mexicans, 
 Their theology, anthropology. 
 
 Geology galore. 
 She knows the forms and features 
 Of pre-historic creatures, 
 Icthyouauri, plesiosauri, megelosauri, 
 
 And many, many more. 
 
 Can describe the ancient Tuscans, 
 The Basques and the Etruscans, 
 Their victuals and their kettles, 
 The use they made of metals 
 Beyond the lightning rod. 
 
 Can discuss Thibetan llhama. 
 The Asiatic Brahma, 
 And scandals of the Vandals ; 
 Nay, more, describe the sandals 
 
 With which the earth they trod. 
 
LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 115 
 
 She knows the mighty giants, 
 
 The Titans of each science, 
 
 All the learning that was turning 
 
 In the burning mind of man ; 
 Yet she couldn't cook a dinner 
 For a hungry saint or sinner, 
 Could not a chicken "smother" 
 For poor, exhausted mother; 
 
 Never us'd a frying-pan. 
 And altho' she could spell it. 
 It made her sick to smell it. 
 
 Whenever it began 
 To splutter and to sputter, 
 It threw her in a flutter 
 
 And hastily she ran 
 From kitchen to piano, 
 And with her sweet soprano 
 
 Anew her work began. 
 Now what could be the matter 
 With the cuisine and the platter 
 
 Where science first began? 
 She's needing reconstruction, 
 Or else there'll be a ruction, 
 Domestic bhss' destruction 
 
 When she hitches to a man. 
 
 SISTER SAD-EYE AND HER COW 
 
 Old Brother Tufnut was pounding away. 
 
 As he had been 'a doing, fifty years so they say. 
 
 Was giving his members a good "dressing down 
 
 As boys would say in slang of the town. 
 
 His matter of discourse today, I am told. 
 
 Was about prophet Daniel, the good man of old. 
 
 I'll give you an extract so that you may see. 
 
 What a powerful preacher Bro. Tufnut could be . 
 
 My brethren and sisters, my discourse today, ah 
 Is about prophet Daniel, and the very good way, ah 
 
116 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 He conducted himself, when danger was near, ah 
 And threats of the wicked did give him no fear, ah 
 Yet we find him today where these wicked men, ah 
 Had cast him, and that was in the Hons' den, ah 
 And for why had they done it leaves me to say, ah 
 He was guilty of praying full three times a day, ah 
 But brethren and sisters, allow me to say, ah 
 For such an offense not one of you, ah 
 Will ever be treated as was the good Jew, ah. 
 
 In the "Amen Comer" sat Sister Sad-eye, 
 Whose feeling were rous'd and she utter'd a cry. 
 That startled the preacher with its volume of 
 
 sound, 
 And his voice, though loud, was about to be 
 
 drown'd, 
 So he went her "one better," an octave or two, 
 But that of the sister he could not subdue. 
 Yet all things must end, and after two hours. 
 Brother T. had exhausted his mighty lung powers 
 
 And yet with desire not lessened at all. 
 As to why the old sister gave forth such a squall, 
 A bee-line he made where the good sister sat. 
 And cause of her sorrow he tried to come at. 
 
 "Sister Sad-eye," says he, "*I was not a peepin' 
 But durin' the sermon I saw you 'a weepin'. 
 And so I will say, and say it right here, 
 That I have been preachin' nigh on fifty year. 
 Yet I do not remember in such a long roll 
 That Tve been the means of savin' one soul ; 
 But if Fve sav'd yours, I will not deny. 
 But say to you now, I am willin* to die." 
 
 Now Sister Sad-eye, she said not a word. 
 And sobbing was all of the sound that he heard, 
 Then Brother Tufnut he was fairly outdone 
 By getting no answer, and so he begun 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 117 
 
 A new "tack" by saying, "Will you not let me 
 
 know 
 What part of my discourse affected you so?" 
 
 Sister Sad-eye then spoke, altho' she wept still, 
 And said, If I must, then "passon," I will. 
 About thirty year ago, I had an old cow. 
 And she was a good one — I see her right now. 
 Oh, she was so constant, she never would shirk, 
 But 'came up' as regular as any clock work. 
 One evenin' she didn't, and I went out to see 
 Down into the "parster" what matter could be, 
 And when I got "thar" I found out the riddle. 
 She was mir'd in swamp plumb up to her middle, 
 And I said to her, 'Rose !' and she give me a look, 
 And that I'll remember 'til my last breath is took. 
 Then she gave a long low, she meant it *Good-bye/ 
 It made me cry so I thought I would die. 
 So, "passon," today you my feelin's did reach, ah 
 For she low'd jes ezactly the way that you preach, 
 ah. 
 
 BRIDGET AND MIKE 
 
 Now Bridget and Mike were often inclined 
 To giving each other "a piece of their mind," 
 And needless to say, for it's easily guess'd 
 In a warfare of words his wife got the best. 
 
 But happen'd it did, for it happens to all. 
 That death, so impartial, gave Micheal a call. 
 As soon as he sicken'd his wife sent in haste 
 For Father O'Connor, the Catholic "praste." 
 
 He knew the short comings and vices of Mike, 
 And being well posted, he knew where to strike, 
 He came at the summons and sat by the bed, 
 And these are the words that to Michael he said. 
 
118 LYRICS OF THE LOST COUSE 
 
 '^Michael ! me boy ! you soon will be dead, 
 You'd better confess, are you not afraid 
 To meet King of Terrors, unshriven and bare, 
 And in Purgatory to land as you are?" 
 
 Then Mike he responded, me good Father ! hear, 
 ''I've lived with the quane nigh on twenty year. 
 And I am persuaded in way of a curse 
 The King may be bad, but the Quane is much 
 
 THE LAWYER AND THE DEVIL 
 
 Two Irishmen walking along the big road 
 In course of their travels came to the abode 
 Of lawyer, whose office was on the road side, 
 And the office in question it can't be denied 
 That in its appearance 'twas very bizarre, 
 And the Irishmen halted, as if in despair 
 Of making it out, and they gaz'd and they gaz'd 
 Such a very great while that a window was raised, 
 And out popp'd a head as guileless of hair 
 As a baby's can be, and one that would scare 
 The crows all away, had any been there. 
 And a voice came forth, not lacking in fire, 
 "In the name of the Devil what do you desire" 
 "For hotel or church my house do you take?" 
 "On me honor, says Pat, I sure can bespake 
 On behalf of us both we thought it a place 
 Where Traste' might be givin' a message of grace 
 To be plain wid ye Sor a house for God's folk 
 'Til, the Divil his head out window did poke." 
 
 A QUESTION OF SPEED 
 
 'Twas at first Manassas our line gave away, 
 And Patrick, he ran, like the "divil" they say, 
 As Pat was duck-legged the rate of his speed 
 Tho' rapid for him was not like a steed. 
 Now a long-legged "Yank" got right after Pat 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 119 
 
 As swift as a runner at sound of the bat, 
 
 And he gain'd on him fast and Patrick well knew 
 
 'Twas only a question of a moment or two 
 
 E're blue-coat would nab him and so he tum'd 
 
 around, 
 And said to the Yankee, who gain'd on his ijround, 
 "What the 'diviP d'ye mean 'spalpeen of a man* " 
 *'Ain't I rinnin away as fast as I can" 
 To give ye the way, and Yankee fair roar'd 
 With laughter and stopp'd and put up his sword, 
 Twas too much for him, and Patrick meanwhile 
 Made good his escape by running a mile. 
 
 POETRY AND FACTS 
 
 Said John unto Mary 'ere the preacher shall bless 
 Let us make up a rhyme that will fully express 
 The bliss to be ours when once we are wed. 
 "All right my Johnny! you just go ahead 
 And write the first line and I'll follow suit 
 And with it the rhyme that will fit it, "to boot." 
 John — "Our bed shall be roses all sprinkled with 
 
 dew." 
 Mary — "Then I would be frozen as surely would 
 
 you." 
 
 A DIFFERENT OPINION 
 
 I once thought tears from eyes of blue 
 Was like a blue-bell dropping dew. 
 But since I've chang'd my notion "sorter" 
 They're just like any other water. 
 
 DOMESTIC BLISS 
 Number One 
 
 Poor Wife ! she can never tell 
 What's coming next. "I told you so," 
 "The bread's not done," the meat, oh, well,' 
 
120 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 "Pray, madam," I would like to know 
 What book you've read — Give me a cook — 
 A wife, I mean, without a book." 
 
 Number Two 
 
 Poor Man, he can never tell 
 What's next from that unsparing tongue, 
 Which was so sweet at marriage, well 
 It now seems in the middle hung. 
 And full of cuts and jibs and sneers 
 'Till utterance is lost in tears. 
 
 SIGNS OF THE TIMES 
 
 Altho' this is the greatest age 
 
 Since time began, the brightest page 
 
 In man's career. 
 Yet there are signs that make us pause, 
 Nor join in chorus of applause 
 
 That smites the ear. 
 
 Who can deny degen'rate days 
 When love of "filthy lucre" sways 
 
 The minds and hearts 
 Of nearly all, the test supreme 
 Of merit, knowing how to scheme 
 
 With crafty arts. 
 
 The mad pursuit for wealth and place, 
 When failure is the great disgrace 
 
 O'rtopping all. 
 Days when success is disfled, 
 And all else roughly thrust aside 
 
 That would forestall. 
 
 No matter now how dull you are 
 In other things, or how bizarre 
 Your looks may be. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 121 
 
 Get rich, your flatterers will find 
 You have Napoleonic mind, 
 Your beauty see. 
 
 Would you be reckoned without brain, 
 Pursue aught else save earthly gain 
 
 And you will find 
 The world will set you down at once 
 As but an idiot or a dunce 
 
 Devoid of mind. 
 
 Hence, flatter some financial god 
 'Til he acknowledge with a nod 
 
 The homage paid. 
 And place you in his great concern, 
 Where, like himself, you soon will learn 
 
 The tricks of trade. 
 
 E'en parents now their children train 
 No more for Heaven but earthly gain, 
 
 An awful wrong, 
 "From early mom 'til dewy eve*' 
 Be smart, my children, wealth achieve," 
 
 Their constant song. 
 
 The church of God, once full of power, 
 Is growing weaker ev'ry hour. 
 
 Has ceas'd to draw 
 Since gifted sons have ceas'd to preach 
 The mighty Gospel, and would teach 
 
 Some other law. 
 
 And such are well-nigh silent too 
 Concerning vices in the pew, 
 
 They seem afraid 
 To cry out, spare not, silence choose. 
 Lest such a stir should make them lose 
 
 Their meat and bread. 
 
 Altho' in pulpits they excel 
 In rhetoric without a hell, 
 Don't be misled. 
 
122 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 The witness of the Spirit gone, 
 Its light extinct, its power flown, 
 That church is dead. 
 
 Tho' well-trained choirs charm the ear 
 With music, we no longer hear 
 
 The aged saint 
 Express his joy with a shout. 
 As in the past. When love goes out 
 
 All else too faint 
 
 To find expression any way 
 
 Save clapping hands at worldly play, 
 
 Or sportive game; 
 There decency all goes awry 
 And modem saints with sinners vie 
 
 In loud acclaim. 
 
 The press, once bulwark of defense 
 'Gainst sham, and error, false pretense 
 
 Of every kind. 
 In many cases gone astray 
 On "fads" and fancies of the day, 
 
 To reason blind. 
 
 "Defend the People's rights,'' forsooth. 
 Go tell it to some callow youth 
 
 Without conceit. 
 Of artful webs such rascals weave 
 To blind-fold, hood-wink and deceive 
 
 All whom they meet. 
 
 Our colleges, once unsurpassed 
 
 As seats where learning was amass'd, 
 
 But now we see 
 "Soil'd money" tying fast their hands. 
 When ev'rything on earth demands 
 
 They should be free. 
 
 Reports of brilHant scholarship 
 That once drew praise from every lip, 
 Dead letters now ; 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 123 
 
 But how to curve and "swat" a ball 
 Of horse-hide has the greater call 
 All must allow. 
 
 Our Literature, if we may call 
 Such trash a literature at all, 
 
 Is without art. 
 Unless it be the base appeal 
 To passions one should never feel 
 
 Within his heart. 
 
 "Best Sellers" in the world today- 
 Are books the world should fling away 
 
 With angry toss. 
 For were they all thrown in the sea 
 Or burnt to ashes, there would be 
 
 No grain of loss. 
 
 What treat they of ? What truth unfold ? 
 What fascinating tale is told 
 
 That makes them sell? 
 Some high and lofty purpose shown 
 In fiction, as on canvass thrown. 
 
 They wish to tell? 
 
 Nay, nay, but nine times out of ten 
 The escapades of vicious men 
 
 And women too, 
 Whose whole careers from start to close 
 Would make the Devil hold his nose, 
 
 And cry out, "Phew." 
 
 But books of learning and of mind 
 Are to the lumber-room consigned, 
 
 Unread, unrolFd, 
 Save by the few, while tons of trash 
 Find readers and the ready cash 
 
 From young and old. 
 
 The journals of the "yellow hue" 
 Portray the scandals of the "stew," 
 In phrases plain, 
 
124 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 And, tho' their decent brethren try 
 To rid their realm of such a sty 
 Tis all in vain. 
 
 Like vultures sailing though the air, 
 They smell the carcass from afar, 
 
 And hither fly 
 In utmost haste, as if they fear 
 Some rival buzzard hovering near 
 
 Would "swipe the pie." 
 
 Our politics ! Oh, what a stench ! 
 
 A world's cologne would hardly quench 
 
 The odor vile, 
 As public men all should revere 
 Become notorious, far and near, 
 
 For graft and guile. 
 
 See agitators as they stand 
 In all the corners of the land, 
 
 And cry aloud 
 For changes written in the law 
 To right the wrongs none ever saw 
 
 Except their crowd. 
 
 And lovely woman too is bent 
 On ways her maker never meant 
 
 Should be her path. 
 What is unnatural is a crime 
 Against one's self, and calls in time 
 For nature's wrath. 
 
 Her charms which since the world was young 
 Have artists shown and poets sung, 
 
 Oh ! must they pass 
 And others come and take their place 
 A brazen, Amazonian race? 
 
 Alas ! Alas ! 
 
 And love? The tender tie design'd 
 In wedded life two hearts to bind 
 All else above. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 125 
 
 Yet wealthy heiress plights her vow 
 To foreign scamp with title now, 
 And laughs at love. 
 
 But love will be avenged ere long, 
 When scandal with her dirty tongue 
 
 Defiles her name, 
 Then sordid bride who sold herself 
 And bought a bauble with her pelf 
 
 Will weep for shame. 
 
 The Sabbath, well-nigh obsolete, 
 ^Vhen so, our ruin is complete, 
 
 We but await 
 The wrath of an offended God, 
 To fall with His avenging rod 
 
 As sure as fate. 
 
 Hence, while we thus would specialize, 
 Our glaring sins before us rise, 
 
 Portentous, vast, 
 The reckoning days and in their train 
 Our ruin, and our nation slain 
 
 Like others past. 
 
 What boots it, we of Science boast 
 With fear of God and honor lost ? 
 
 Of what avail 
 The wonders of a world that's dead 
 To all high things prefers instead 
 
 The things that fail. 
 
 Oh, God! we need Elijahs now 
 
 Like him who stood on CarmeFs brow 
 
 In Ahab's reign. 
 Great sons of Thunder, who would shake 
 This guilty world and make it quake 
 
 With fear again. 
 
126 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 THE UNSPEAKABLE GIFT 
 
 Oh, there is a treasure more precious than gold, 
 Than all of the silver Golcondas can hold. 
 
 And yet it is free. 
 A treasure that thieves cannot steal nor destroy, 
 A treasure in which there is fullness of joy, 
 
 For you and for me. 
 
 Ah, what is this treasure of which you so speak ? 
 Pray tell me, that I its possession may seek, 
 
 And make no delay. 
 Is it poetic gift, or vision of seer. 
 The orator's tongue, or musician's ear. 
 
 To charm and to sway? 
 
 No ; none of these things, yet its value outweighs 
 All honors of earth, or the triumphs that blaze 
 
 In pathway of fame. 
 Art can not portray and tongue can not sing 
 The joy it gives, or the raptures that spring 
 
 In owing the same. 
 
 The sun will be darkened, the heavens shall fall, 
 The earth burnt to ashes, and yet o'er all 
 
 This gift will endure. 
 Tho' tongues they shall cease and knowledge shall 
 
 fail, 
 But this gift alone will survive and prevail. 
 
 After death evei-more. 
 
 'Tis God's perfect love manifest in His Son, 
 When he died for this world and cried, 
 "It is done!" 
 
 On Calvary's tree. 
 Could the wealth of all worlds in a balance be 
 
 weighed, 
 'Twould be but a feather to the price that was 
 paid 
 
 That gift might be free. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 127 
 
 VISIONS OF JEFFERSON 
 Vision One 
 
 The clock strikes "Twelve," it is the midnight hour 
 When poets dream, and on their fancies draw 
 
 For ghosts and goblins, whose airy power 
 Seems potent then in mocking ev'ry law 
 
 Of nature to convince by visual show 
 They do exist, and sometimes walk below. 
 
 Be as it may, I sat before the blaze 
 
 Immers'd in thought of what I just had read; 
 
 Was I asleep, or was it but a maze, 
 
 Some wanton fancy flying thro' my head? 
 
 There near me stood the figure of a man 
 
 Whose searching eyes it seem'd would thro' me 
 scan. 
 
 His mein was serious, and his eyes were blue ; 
 
 His hair was auburn, and his face so strong 
 And intellectual, that at once I drew, 
 
 Here stands a man who will not suffer wrong 
 To go unwhipt in either Church or State, 
 
 In pauper's hut or palace of the great. 
 
 He did not speak, although I strongly sought 
 To draw him out, he utter'd not a word ; 
 
 Ghosts do not speak, this was my second thought, 
 A moment more, and then he disappeared, 
 
 But whither gone, indeed I cannot tell, 
 
 But this I know, I saw and mark'd him well. 
 
 Now, where was I before this vision came, 
 
 If such it were? Where were my thought I mean 
 
 That so engag'd to lead to such a frame. 
 
 For minds are mov'd by some forgotten scene 
 
 Of wakeful hours, long buried out of sight. 
 Which come again in visions of the night. 
 
 I have it now ; I was in flaming France, 
 Amidst the Titans of our modern days, 
 
128 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Revolution's Leaders, daring to advance 
 
 "The Rights of Man" while hated Bastiles blaze, 
 
 The Tyrants Dungeon, trampling into dust 
 
 The thrones of monarchs, whom they cannot 
 trust. 
 
 I saw the giants, men of colossal mould 
 In mental pow'r, pre-eminent, alone 
 
 Danton and Mirabeau, audacious, bold, 
 Unaw'd by all the terrors of the throne, 
 
 Jacobin, Girondist, overwhelming all 
 By eloquence in great Convention Hall. 
 
 The People Rule, the Marsellaise is sung 
 Throughout all France, on ev'ry side 
 
 Liberie, Egalite, Fraternite is rung. 
 
 In vain the monarch seeks to stem th^ tide ; 
 
 Tis o'erwhelming, brooks no compromise, 
 Concession comes too late and — Louis dies. 
 
 The wild excess, the awesome aftermath. 
 The war of factions whose violence rends 
 
 The State to pieces with senseless wrath, 
 
 Made France cry out, "Oh, save me from my 
 friends" 
 
 That cry was heard, the Man on Horseback comes 
 'Mid musket's rattle and roll of drums. 
 
 I saw one standing amidst the dread uproar. 
 
 Upon whose face there was a look of pain. 
 Like some fond lover whose dream is o'er. 
 
 Whose hopes of bliss and joy have been slain; 
 I scanned him closely, fancy my surprise. 
 
 Here was the vision again before my eyes. 
 
 What country can be his I fain would learn ? 
 
 What does it mean ? or am I in a trance ? 
 My fate to see him, no matter where I turn, 
 
 What business his in desolated France? 
 I speak again, but still no answer comes, 
 
 And all I hear the distant roll of drums. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 129 
 
 Was he a sharer in that fierce delight 
 Of a Republic that bewildered France; 
 
 A sympathizer with her despot's might, 
 Who aw'd all Europe with an angry glance ? 
 
 I could not tell, for on his placid face 
 Save one of sorrow, I saw no other trace. 
 
 Vision Second 
 
 This vision gone, behold another comes. 
 More wondrous still to my astonished gaze, 
 
 I see no guillotines, I hear no drums, 
 
 No turmoil in the streets, no Bastiles blaze ; 
 
 No Dantons roar, no Mirabeaus arise. 
 
 No lightnings flash, no thunders shake the skies 
 
 Instead I saw a country, long and wide. 
 
 Whose shores extending, stretch'd from sea to 
 sea. 
 
 An ocean vast there roll'd on either side, 
 
 While lakes and gulf so vast they seem'd to be 
 
 Great inland seas, while mighty rivers ran 
 Across its surface, throughout its span. 
 
 And then methought I saw a Council Board, 
 At head of which an august chairman stands, 
 
 Pacific now, yet one whose stainless sword 
 Had sav'd his country from a tyrant's hands 
 
 Presiding now and listening to debate 
 Of giants building the Ship of State. 
 
 Then, one arose, whose master-mind and fame 
 Lent weight to ev'ry word, and thus began : 
 
 " Tis my opinion, and I maintain the same, 
 "The People Cannot Rule," choose then a man 
 
 Of iron will, clothe him v/ith powers great 
 To sit at helm and guide the Ship of State. 
 
 "The People Cannot Rule," behold fair France, 
 By factions torn, her cities drenched with blood 
 
130 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE ^^ 
 
 Her wild fanatics, striving to advance 
 
 Such schemes of government, not understood 
 
 Outside of Bedlam, then let us not forsake 
 The path of reason, and road to folly take. 
 
 "Reserve No Rights" that are beyond recall, 
 Or prove a barrier should a crisis 'rise ; 
 
 Let Head be great but keep the Body small, 
 A Government that no one dare despise ; 
 
 States keep their names, as lesser planets run, 
 But borrow all their brilliance from the Sun. 
 
 This Law Organic, I enter my dissent 
 Against it now, there's too much latitude 
 
 In its provisions ; too much sentiment, 
 It sounds to me like a mere platitude 
 
 To catch the mob, too weak in ev'ry strand: 
 I tell you, sirs, 'tis but a rope of sand. 
 
 Made safe in this, our aim be trade and wealth ; 
 
 These are the sinews that make a nation strong 
 For countries poor, like persons of ill-health. 
 
 Never count for much tho' they should linger 
 long. 
 And to be poor debars the right of way 
 
 Rich nations have in seizing weaker prey. 
 
 He ceased at this, and there was loud applause 
 In which, also, the august chairman joined. 
 
 As if to show, he, too, perceived the flaws 
 In Law Organic, and would stronger bind 
 
 The States together ; give the Federal Head 
 More power still, no matter where it led. 
 
 And then another rose, whose gift of speech 
 Was poor indeed, but from whose forceful pen 
 
 Flow'd eloquence and reason that could reach 
 The hearts and minds and consciences of men. 
 
 He stood erect with manuscript in hand 
 And platform read, where he propos'd to stand. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 131 
 
 "I am convinced, for with this hand I drew 
 That Declaration, which destroyed the Throne 
 
 Of Britain here, and made her ever rue 
 Her senseless folly, which w^as fully shown 
 
 When she her flag of conquest here unfurl'd 
 To silence freedom in her Western World. 
 
 Altho' I am patrician born, and rear'd 
 In lines of life that taught me to despise. 
 
 And with contempt behold the common herd ; 
 Yet when I saw my fellow-men arise 
 
 At country's call to arms, then I did see 
 All men are equal and should be free. 
 
 You cite me. Sir, to devasted France, 
 As an example and argument too strong 
 
 To be gainsaid, Til show you at glance 
 
 Your premise is unsound, conclusion wrong. 
 
 And your deductions therefrom full of flaws. 
 With argument inverted — Effect for Cause. 
 
 No herasay mine, for I myself was there 
 And know whereof I speak, re-iterate, 
 
 That fierce upheaval — an outbreak of despair 
 'Gainst wrongs of centuries by Church and State 
 
 Borne 'til forbearance, a virtue ceas'd to be 
 And Frenchmen rose, determined to be free. 
 
 You can call them "wild," I ask, would you be tame 
 If ev'ry right vouchsaf'd from God to man 
 
 Were wrested from you, leaving rags and shame 
 Your only portion ; under such a ban 
 
 Would you not strike with all your might and main 
 Nor feel secure until such foes were slain. 
 
 Have we forgotten that high, heroic time 
 When all our people striving to be free. 
 
 Were in despair, that chivalry sublime 
 
 France show'd to us, nay, even dar'd to be 
 
 Our gen'rous ally. Oh ! can we e'er forget 
 That name illustrious, De La Fayette. 
 
182 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 And next I hear the base appeal for wealth, 
 As if mere riches could make a nation strong ; 
 
 Pray tell me. Sir, where is that Nation's "health" 
 Tho' rich as Croesus with its morals wrong, 
 
 Whose civic heroes, exiled in disgrace 
 
 And sordid rascals holding power and place. 
 
 Look, Sirs, at Carthage, of Hannibal, the home; 
 
 Behold her ruin as soon as she began 
 To worship riches, overwhelmed by Rome 
 
 When wealth became her measure of a man ; 
 Nay I repeat that wealth and love of ease 
 
 Will prove our ruin when we worship these. 
 
 You speak of "brilliance," but another sort. 
 
 Not "borrowed" either, but stolen out of hand, 
 
 Occurs to me of a corrupted Court, 
 
 Which fain would dazzle an unhappy land 
 
 Of freedom robbed, of ev'ry light bereft 
 And seeks by show to dignify the theft. 
 
 We stand today on theshold, as it were. 
 
 Of a new nation, and we would make it strong 
 
 This all depends on basis that we rear ; 
 
 If that be weak, and 'twill be built on wrong, 
 
 Then we must fail ; for Law, wheron we stand, 
 I grant you. Sir, would prove *a rope of sand.' 
 
 A Government unloved is never strong, 
 Tho' fleets and armies cover see and land ; 
 
 Its rulers fear the people whom they wrong 
 And live in dread of an avenging hand. 
 
 And well they may, no tyrant is secure 
 
 E'en with the guards who stand around his door. 
 
 My scheme is this a government three-fold, 
 Each branch thereof forbidd'n to transgress, 
 
 Transcend its limits ; let Court the Laws uphold. 
 Construe their meaning, neither more nor less, 
 
 Its branches never go beyond at all. 
 The Law Organic^ otherwise, we fall. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOS T CAUSE 133 
 
 "Equal Rights" for all, but privilege for none 
 Save what is common, good for all the State, 
 
 With Right Reserved,'' let all the States be one 
 As to the Nation ; no citizen so great 
 
 Law cannot reach him, none so weak and poor 
 But in his rights may always feel secure. 
 
 Nations governed least, are always governed best, 
 God limits His "Commandments" to the Ten; 
 
 Sad fate for people by many laws opprest 
 To further schemes of a varicious men 
 
 Who know full well what end they have in view 
 To rob the many to enrich the few. 
 
 Let consciences of all be free, we find. 
 Too oft the priest is but the tyrant's tool 
 
 By whom all freedom is deftly undermined. 
 And then false plea by "right divine" to rule 
 
 Comes on apace, 'til superstition finds 
 
 Decree of Heaven in plot of scheming minds. 
 
 Concluding now let me re-iterate 
 
 Opinions I have oft expressed before, 
 I mean to say that we must educate 
 
 Our people to expect from Government no more 
 Than what they give it, none allow'd to share 
 
 Its favors special, I see disaster there. 
 
 " 'Twas by ambition 'tis said the angels fell 
 From first estate, and we shall date our fall 
 
 From a Republic to Anarchic Hell 
 
 When we ignore that which belongs to all — 
 
 An equal chance for wealth and happiness 
 At Mammon's nod, or else from party stress." 
 
 This point I fain would emphasize 
 
 Above all others, as seeings where it leads, 
 
 It sounds euphonic — 'Infant Enterprise,' 
 
 And hides the monster it nourishes and breeds. 
 
 For every nation of which I ever read, 
 Whose Laws were partial, is moribund or dead. 
 
134 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 "This is my doctrine ; here, I take my stand, 
 Immovable as yonder mountain's base; 
 
 Sure of the right with that heroic band 
 
 Which has withstood in every age and place 
 
 Despotic power, and all the same is meant 
 Tho' called a Czar, a King, or President. 
 
 He ceased to read and there was no applause, 
 Instead, loud cries of 'Leveler' arose 
 
 Throughout the Hall ; but conscious that his cause 
 Was right and just, the clamor of his foes 
 
 Disturbed him not, and then I knew once more 
 
 vA 
 
 This was the pian I saw in France. ;,, £) 
 
 MY OLD COUNTRY HOME 
 
 How fondly I think of my old country home 
 As years of my life now draw to a close. 
 
 Of the woods and the fields, that I so lov'd to roam 
 Or of the green meadow where the riverlet flows. 
 
 I see the dear faces that smiled on me then, 
 And hear the sweet voices like music to me 
 
 Ere ever I knew of the harshness of men. 
 
 Or dreamed that the world not an Eden would 
 be. 
 
 The yard where I played when a bare footed boy. 
 The stable, the barn, the deep bubbling spring, 
 
 I see of all these in the fullness of joy. 
 
 And bliss of young life, that knew not a sting. 
 
 My dear gentle Mother and Father, I see. 
 The gods of childhood, for all parents are, 
 
 Wherever they were no danger could be. 
 
 For none could excel them, none with them 
 compare. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 135 
 
 All the sights and the sounds of the old country- 
 place, 
 
 I see them, I hear them, so real they seem. 
 So life-like withal, no phantoms that chase 
 
 Through mind when asleep, no vision, no dream. 
 
 The caw of the peacock, chanticleer's crow. 
 
 The cackling of hens as they fly from the nest. 
 
 The whinny of horses, the cattle that low 
 At set of the sun for food and for rest. 
 
 The laughter of children, the white and the black 
 As races we ran to see who could beat, 
 
 The climbing and sliding adown the hay stack, 
 Where a few days before they had threshed out 
 the wheat. 
 
 Alas, oh, Alas, the old place is gone. 
 
 The hand of the stranger has fashioned anew 
 
 The old country-home where sun brightest shone, 
 And life was entracing always to my view. 
 
 I go to the grave-yard visiting there. 
 
 And forms of the lov'd ones moulder'd away. 
 
 Are all resurrected, just as they were, 
 
 I see them again as they were in that day. 
 
 Tho* wrinkled and gray and old am I now. 
 Yet tears come unbidden, I cannot repress. 
 
 The voice of nature, it still makes me bow. 
 
 And weep for the lov'd ones God gave me to 
 bless. 
 
 HE HEALED THE BIRD WITH THE BROKEN 
 WING 
 
 I dreamed that I pass'd thro' the woods one day 
 And a stranger saw, who paused on his way 
 And gaz'd at his feet; 
 
136 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 When ,wond'ring much what this could mean, 
 I nearer drew to the puzzhng scene 
 For a view complete. 
 
 I saw a bird with a broken wing ; 
 Too lame to fly, too sad to sing 
 
 As it lay aground ; 
 And it to the stranger seemed to say, 
 Will you not pity a bird today 
 
 And heal its wound ? 
 
 The man bent down and bird caress'd 
 And placed it gently on his breast 
 
 And went his way. 
 He bore it home, and with a string 
 He gently bandag'd the broken wing, 
 
 My dream did say. 
 
 He gave it food and drink each day 
 'Til its wing was heal'd and it flew away 
 
 With joyous song 
 To sweet companions it left before 
 In their forest home. My dream was o'er; 
 
 But not for long. 
 
 For I dreamed again — dreamed that I stood 
 At heaven's gate and the selfsame wood 
 
 I had passed thro' 
 Came back to me; and, stranger yet, 
 I saw the man whom I had met, 
 
 Full in my view. 
 
 As he drew near to heaven's gate, 
 I heard a voice, and it cried, **Await !" 
 
 Your passport show. 
 For without this no man can pass 
 Within this gate. And the man, alas! 
 
 Thought doom below. 
 
 Then came a voice in question's tone, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 137 
 
 "What good on earth have you ever done? 
 Have you pity shown to any one, 
 
 Or soothed a pang?" 
 Then did the angel of record sing, ^^ 
 
 "He heard the bird with the broken wmg, 
 
 And Heaven rang 
 
 With sweet refrain as he entered in 
 The Holy City that knows no sin. 
 
 I woke and knew 
 What meaning from my dreamings spnng ; 
 That deeds of kindness always bring 
 
 Heav'n near to you. 
 
 CONFESSIONS OF A BACK SLIDER 
 
 Alas ! how hard this heart of mine, 
 How dead to everything divine, 
 
 And Heavenly bent; 
 With each recurring Sabbath Day 
 I go to church and come away 
 
 Just as I went. 
 
 It cannot be the preacher's fault, 
 I know his sermons do exalt 
 
 To things divine 
 The souls of others, for they say,^^ 
 "That sermon did me good today," 
 
 The fault is mine. 
 
 Poor me, I sit there like a stone 
 Beneath the Gospel's charming tone, 
 
 So sweet to me 
 In other days, days when I knew 
 The I.ove of God and lov'd Him too. 
 
 When I was free. 
 
 One sweet remembrance Hngers yet. 
 Nor while I live will I forget 
 When but a boy 
 
138 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 God's spirit came, as "rushing wind," 
 
 And fiird my heart and soul and mind 
 
 With speechless jo.y 
 
 In that glad time it seem'd to me 
 God's love was boundess as the sea, 
 
 Twas so immense; 
 No words could tell the bliss I felt, 
 It seem'd as if my heart would melt 
 
 With love intense. 
 
 Alas ! that I should fall away 
 From such experience, go astray 
 
 From light and love ; 
 Lose Spirit's witness and my joy. 
 Let carnal thoughts my mind employ, 
 
 Tho' bom above. 
 
 To follow Him we must deny 
 Ourselves, or we will shall surely die 
 
 As I have shown; 
 His ev'ry call we must obey. 
 Neglect the least we fall away, 
 
 Our witness gone. 
 
 Lord Jesus, Savior, can it be 
 That I have ceas'd to honor Thee, 
 
 And turn'd away 
 Like Demas, in the days of old, 
 My zeal, my love, and heart grown cold 
 
 In this dark day. 
 
 Am I ahve, or am I dead? 
 Am I asleep on Satan's bed? 
 
 Of carnal ease ? 
 Persuade myself that all is well, 
 While on my easy way to Hell, 
 
 In States like these. 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 139 
 
 Oh, God! My God! I fly to Thee! 
 Once more in mercy pity me, 
 
 Again restore 
 Salvation's joy, let me sing, 
 Redeeming love of Christ my King, 
 
 Forevermore. 
 
 And yet I know one cannot live 
 On past experience, grace must give 
 
 The daily power; 
 Or else the christian falls away 
 From heavenly things, and day by day, 
 
 Nay, hour by hour, 
 
 Falls lower still, until at last 
 Begins to doubt "experience" past 
 
 Of His new birth. 
 'Tis Satan's work to sweep away 
 The joy of that happy day. 
 
 The best on earth. 
 
 DR. WILLIAM L. ROBINSON 
 
 (A tribute to his memory by one who loved him) 
 
 A fine, noble life, it is ended at last, _ 
 Undimmed by a sorrow, save that it is past; 
 Though death overcame, it did not defeat 
 A life that was noble and useful and sweet. 
 
 A life that is given to all that is high. 
 And generous and manly it never can die. 
 Though fame be forgotten, a legend at most, 
 Love lives on forever; it cannot be lost. 
 
 In days of his youth no more gallant knight, 
 Ever wielded a sabre, defending the right. 
 But gentle peace coming, when grim war was done, 
 He chose as his calling the greatest, save one; 
 Gave science and skill to humanity's cause, 
 For forty long years with hardly a pause. 
 
 Many beautiful lives the Southland has given, 
 
 Of women and men who have wrought, who have striven, 
 
140 LYRICS OP THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Through eras of darkness, whose faith was a light, 
 A pillar of fire to lead us aright. 
 
 And his ever shone with brilliance of mind, 
 And heart sympathetic and cheerful and kind, 
 To the humble and lowly, humanity's cause. 
 Was dearer to him than worldly applause. 
 
 He belonged to the era that gave to the world. 
 The rarest of flowers that it ever unfurled; 
 Fair women and men whose graces no tongue, 
 Of orator uttered or poet has sung. 
 
 Hail, friend, and farewell, oh, light be the sod 
 That hides thee from us, on the bosom of God. 
 Thy spirit awaits; we shall meet again, 
 In world without death, or sorrow or pain. 
 
 FATHER RYAN 
 
 When wail of "Conquer'd Nation" rose, 
 
 When leaders faiFd, whom South could trust. 
 
 As Banner by relentless foes 
 
 Lay torn and trampled in the dust. 
 
 From out the darkness there was heard 
 
 A voice, and it seem'd divine. 
 By which all Southern hearts were stirr'd. 
 
 Sweet poet-priest, that voice was thine. 
 
 Its pathos and its power won 
 
 Its way to ev'ry gen'rous heart. 
 Whose "Conquered Banner," tho' undone. 
 
 Still lives in thy poetic art. 
 
 A poet-priest, two gifts divine 
 
 To lofty aims, inspir'd thee, 
 And grace and genius both combine 
 
 And give thee immortality. 
 
 A grander shaft is thine today. 
 
 Than brass or marble, far above 
 The formal honors they convey. 
 
 Our Southern gratitude and lov». 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 141 
 
 LOVE FOREVER 
 
 Oh, Love, tho* oft has mortal tongue, 
 And pen thy matchless triumphs sung, 
 Yet there are thoughts that 'round thee team 
 More beautiful than poet's dream. 
 
 No need to say love comes from heaven, 
 Its origin divine is eiven. 
 In deeds and words, its tones and smile 
 Is heaven itself, and all the while. 
 
 Aye, love is life, for it imparts 
 lis power to our deadened hearts, 
 And makes them live and throb and glow. 
 In harmony with God below. 
 
 Love is a sun, it shines for all, 
 In palace, or in cottage small. 
 It beautifies the callous'd hand 
 That labors hard at its command. 
 
 And never King nor Monarch shone 
 More radiantly upon the throne, 
 Than when they felt and own'd its power 
 And exercised it every hour. 
 
 'Tis love that gives to nature's face 
 
 Its beauty, comeliness and grace, 
 
 'Tis love embues poetic mind 
 
 With sight where that of prose is blmd, 
 
 For pearly dewdrops sparkling clear 
 
 To poet seems as Beauty's tear. 
 
 The tints that streak the lovely rose 
 Are like the blushes that disclose 
 On maiden's cheek when lover pale 
 Reveals to her the "tender tale." 
 
 A DARK-EYED DAUGHTER OF JUDEA 
 
 Whene'er by fortune, or by chance, 
 I meet her, there will rise 
 Before me visions of romance 
 As seen in her dark eyes . 
 
 I read the history of her race, 
 Its pathos and its power. 
 
142 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Each step from glory and from grace 
 Until this present hour. 
 
 The mellow light of Syrian skies, 
 Reflecting in its beams, 
 A heart that ever will comprise 
 Judea in its dreams. 
 
 Aye, more than this, they speak to me, 
 Of prophets, priests and kings, 
 The glory of her land, when free, 
 Of days when David sings. 
 
 The triumphs of her chosen race 
 In glorious days of old, 
 Ere God in anger hid his face 
 From people of His fold. 
 
 The darkness of disaster's day, 
 Its sorrow and its pain, 
 Judea's sceptre torn away 
 And all her glory slain. 
 
 All this, and more whene'er by chance, 
 Or fate, or otherwise, 
 Mine own are sadden'd by the glance, 
 Of dark Judean days. 
 
 Look up fair daughter of a race. 
 To which all mankind owes, 
 Whate'er of goodness and of grace. 
 Humanity it knows. 
 
 FIRST LOVE 
 
 Can the young heart exert 
 More than once all its powers? 
 Are springs in a desert? 
 Can a waste produce flowers? 
 
 Can a streamlet still flow 
 When its fountain is dry? 
 Or a flower still grow 
 When its essence shall die? 
 
 Can an army be scattered, 
 Yet forsake not the nlain? 
 Can hopes that are shattered 
 Be cemented again? 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 143 
 
 Can a flame be relighted 
 When its fuel is gone? 
 Or a love be requited 
 When heart there is none? 
 
 Can purest love ever 
 
 To friendship descend, 
 
 When its sweet bonds shall sever 
 
 And be at an end ? 
 
 IMMORTALITY 
 
 He is immortal, who does immortal deeds 
 For all mankind and not for self alone, 
 For true success makes others to succeed 
 And their success but multiplies his own, 
 And makes it certain for honor's breath 
 Sings the good man's praises after death, 
 
 A GREAT NATION 
 
 When culture, commerce and honor's sense combine 
 
 They make a nation great, not wealth alone 
 
 For love of wealth will always undermine 
 
 The civic virtues, true foundation stone 
 
 On which it stands, for history is plain. 
 
 All nations die, whose whole pursuit is gain. 
 
 WHY NOT JESUS 
 
 Jesus! all-sustaining name! 
 
 In days when persecution's flame 
 
 The saints consum'd. 
 Yet tortures fierce could not destroy 
 Their confidence of endless joy 
 
 Beyond the tomb. 
 
 For Christ no earthly trumpets sang; 
 For Christ no welcome plaudits rang, 
 
 When he came hence. 
 And yet no name in all this earth, 
 In all the ages since His birth. 
 
 Looms so immense. 
 
144 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Colossus of historic realm, 
 
 And whose achievements overwhelm 
 
 All other names. 
 In vain may Voltaires him assail, 
 Or Ingersolls — all others pale 
 
 Before his claims. 
 
 Despise'd, neglected in his day, 
 And basely slain; he came to stay 
 
 For evermore. 
 The Conquerer of death and hell, 
 The King of glory, Heav'n as well 
 
 As earth adore. 
 
 At Pilate's bar no more he stands; 
 The brutal mob no more demands 
 
 To "crucify!" 
 The scheming Pharisee no more 
 His death contrives; on ev'ry shore 
 
 We magnify 
 
 His matchless name! Hosannas sing 
 To Jesus earth's and Heav'n's King 
 
 Of great and small. 
 Yet strange indeed, while this is true. 
 The world withholds from him his due, 
 
 Deserving all. 
 
 Tho' Homer sings of Grecian Isles 
 In stains that all the world beguiles, 
 
 And glorifies 
 The name of Greece; while Virgil sings 
 Of lofty Rome^ — her Latium kings — 
 And empire's rise; 
 
 Tho* Dante, dark, morose, sublime. 
 Sings in an epic for all time 
 
 His pilgrimage, 
 Where horrors reign, unmix'd, supreme, 
 Each scene of woe a dreadful dream 
 
 Upon his page; 
 
 Tho* Milton, with his genius high. 
 Hath sung the battles of the sky 
 
 In master strains. 
 Then tum*d with equal sweep to tell 
 Of horrors in the pit of hell, 
 
 Where Satan reigns; 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 145 
 
 Tho* Arnold, far as in him lies, 
 "The Light of Asia" magnifies 
 
 Without surcease; 
 Yet, Jesus, Lord, and King of Kings, 
 Of him no towering genius sings 
 
 In masterpiece. 
 
 Mayhap no intellect can soar 
 As high as Jesus, dare explore, 
 
 Or e^en aspire 
 To such a theme as would demand 
 An angel's brain, an angel's hand, 
 
 And tongue of fire . 
 
 TO MY VIOLIN 
 
 Thou pretty box of varnished wood, 
 
 Though dead, say sense and science wise, 
 
 What melody, if understood, 
 
 What harmony within thee lies. 
 
 Enkindled to a genial glow 
 
 The sweetest feeling of the heart, 
 
 'Neath magic touch of master's bow, 
 What visions into being start! 
 
 Then memory with magic wand 
 
 Brings back the buried past to me ; 
 
 I feel the touch of vanished hands, 
 The loved and lost again I see. 
 
 Revives that happy, thrilling hour. 
 
 When first my boyish fingers pressed 
 The trembling strings, and felt the power 
 
 That lay within thy wondrous breast. 
 Again I move 'mid festive scenes 
 
 Of early life, when free from care. 
 When lovely maidens in their teens, 
 
 And beardless boys met to share 
 
 The nleasures of the plain quadrille 
 And reel on many a homely floor; 
 
 When jolly fiddlers showed their skill 
 And eager dancers called for more. 
 
 But as in manhood I advance, 
 
 A sterner call I hear than thine; 
 
 The trumpets sound, the banners dance, 
 The cannons boom along the line. 
 
146 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 And yet when gory fields were fought, 
 And night her sable curtain drew, 
 
 At such an hour as this I sought, 
 
 And sweetest solace found in you. 
 
 Ah! nevermore the battle strain 
 
 Mine old ears wish again to hear, 
 
 Recalling sadly comrades slain, 
 
 The widow's and the orphan's tear. 
 
 My viol, thou dost sing to me 
 
 In sweeter, holier strains than this — ■ 
 An echo from the endless sea — 
 
 The ocean of eternal bliss. 
 
 One dead to music cannot know. 
 
 The bliss, and rapture it canst give; 
 
 To eat and drink and breathe below 
 Is to exist, but not to live. 
 
 Deny the god that would have dwelt 
 Within him when he sought to stay, 
 
 Repressing all one ever felt 
 
 Till Heaven, slighted, fled away. 
 
 Literature, science, music, art, 
 Were ever paramount to me; 
 
 To them I gave my utmost heart, 
 I love them still, tho' poor I be. 
 
 And now as age is creeping on. 
 
 And life's hard battle well-nigh fought, 
 
 I find that solace in thy tone 
 
 That in the world I vainly sought. 
 
 Thou, earthly echo of that sphere, 
 
 Where language thrills in music's tone, 
 
 Such sweetness, Lord, oh let me hear 
 
 In Heaven, when I am dead and gone. 
 
 AT FIRST SIGHT 
 
 Sweet maiden! I confess thou art 
 The charming idol of my mind 
 The highest type earth could impart 
 Of beauty, wit, and soul combined. 
 
 I knew it from that very hour 
 I met thee, I have never known 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 147 
 
 A moment's freedom from the power 
 Thy charms around my life have thrown. 
 
 In vain I struggle to be free 
 
 From love's dominion and its pain, 
 
 I am, yet hate thy slave to be, 
 
 I forge the links yet curse the chain. 
 
 For well I know a woman's heart 
 Cannot be moved by sighs alone, 
 But love makes man act foolish part. 
 He is insane 'til love has flown. 
 
 So pray excuse my silliness. 
 The signals of the ^vreck I show. 
 And like a vessel in distress 
 Please take me dearest into tow. 
 
 LEO TOLSTOY 
 
 Unique, original, alone, 
 
 Tolstoy stands apart. 
 As one who held and swav'd the throne 
 
 Of Russia's brain and heart. 
 
 As some colossal mountain peak, 
 
 Immense, serene, sublime. 
 Whom all can see, no need to seek. 
 
 The marvel of his time . 
 
 Thrown on an unresponsive age, 
 
 A dark and sordid day 
 When "Filthy Lucre" held the stage. 
 
 And Mammon wrote the play; 
 
 Yet sought he sunny isles of truth 
 
 Far out in Error's main 
 With all the eager heart of youth, 
 
 Yet with a Titan's brain. 
 
 No prophet, priest, or wondrous seer 
 
 Of mankind's future state. 
 But man and his condition here 
 
 His subjects of debate. 
 
 He found no Philosophic School, 
 
 No cult, as scholars say; 
 His rule of life the Golden Rule, 
 
 And his way, Jesus' way. 
 
148 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 Fame came to him, but came unsought, 
 
 His greatness made it so, 
 For all the things for which he wrought 
 
 The highest here below. 
 
 The lowly stood around his bier 
 
 When he had passed away. 
 And tears were never more sincere 
 
 Than those they shed that day. 
 
 They knew the best of friends had passed 
 
 Beyond all mortal ken, 
 Who gave his life and riches vast 
 
 For his poor fellow-men. 
 
 He is not dead; he cannot die. 
 
 As does all "common clay." 
 A life so noble and so high 
 
 Can never pass away. 
 
 AN ODE TO SLEEP 
 
 Sweet sleep, says Sancho Panza 
 Belov'd from pole to pole. 
 Thou art the great restorer 
 Of body, mind and soul. 
 
 Calm peace to Nations "'iving, 
 For none have yet been found, 
 That e'er dream'd of fighting 
 Whose slumber was profound. 
 
 Look at old China will you, 
 Engaging in a "scrap," 
 As soon as she awakens 
 From centuries of "nap . " 
 
 Let stingy old curmugdeons 
 Get up at break of day. 
 And rob thee of thy power 
 In almost ev'ry way. 
 
 Would could they hear the "roastings' 
 Behind their backs they get 
 From devotees of slumber 
 With morning "naps" up-set. 
 
 Aye, sleep's the major blessing. 
 The greatest in its line, 
 
LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 149 
 
 Tho' "skinflints" call it "lazy," 
 Its mission is divine. 
 
 For none can do without it 
 Whatever they may think, 
 'Tis just as necessary 
 As either food or drink. 
 
 And when in dreaded illness 
 Our bodies lie abed, 
 How happy is the Doctor 
 When sleep comes to his aid . 
 
 For well he realizes, 
 In treating human ills, 
 That sleep is more potential 
 Than medicines and pills. 
 
 And when the nurse informs him, 
 The sick one slept at night, 
 He knows the worst is over. 
 And ^/ictory's in sight. 
 
 Rut sleep has other blessings 
 Than aiding one to live, 
 Yes! many minor comforts. 
 That it alone can give. 
 
 For instance, prosy sermons 
 That much will others bore. 
 Lose their waking terrors, 
 To all inclined to snore. 
 
 For "Thirdly," "Fourthly," "Fifthly" 
 Are never heard by one 
 Who slumbers on profoundly 
 Until the sermon's done. 
 
 The poets of all ages. 
 The charms of sleep have sung, 
 Thro* it came inspiration 
 When all the world was young. 
 
 For when Pere Adam slumber'd 
 Then poisy began. 
 For without Eve there had been 
 No poetry in man. 
 
150 LYRICS OF THE LOST CAUSE 
 
 HELEN 
 
 When she is seen, mine eyes behold 
 
 A being cast in beauty's mould 
 
 The brightest star, the purest gem 
 
 That decks creation's diadem. 
 
 Her eyes have more than brilliant glance, 
 
 They have the charm of sweet romance. 
 
 Her lips speak more than utter'd words 
 
 Or dulcet notes of soulless birds, 
 
 And with her violin she sings 
 
 Her soul of music in its strings 
 
 Sweet lady born to beautify 
 
 And bless the world, may purest sky 
 
 Look down on "Thee where'er Thou art," 
 
 So bright of mind, so pure of heart.