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IN THE SHADOW 
 OF THE ALAMO 
 
 A GARLAND OF LYRICS FOR 
 SAN ANTONIO'S BICENTENARY 
 
 nineteen hundred and eighteen 
 
 By 
 
 PAUL A. LEWIS, O. M. I. 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1S18 
 BYPAUt_A. LEWIS 
 
SZL(^^ 
 
 TO MY MOTHER 
 
 When the stars are faintly glowing, 
 When the vesper-bells have rung, 
 
 Then to thee my thoughts are going, 
 Then of thee my songs are sung. 
 
 \f,m 12 1918 
 
 ©CI.A492o26 
 
SAN ANTONIO 
 
 I know a sweet old Southern city 
 
 Where quaint and pretty customs linger, 
 
 And often when I di-eam of her 
 I would 1 were a gifted singer. 
 
 She holds the storied Alamo 
 
 And pilgTims go to see tliat shrine 
 
 -Where Texan liberty was bought 
 
 And battles fought that deathless shine. 
 
 'Tis there the silvery San Antone 
 Has gently flown for centui'ies 
 
 And sweetly mui-mui-s through the city 
 A gay old ditty to the bi-eeze. 
 
 There swarthy Mexican rancheros 
 In tall sombreros gaily decked 
 
 Pause at the corner-stalls to chat in 
 Their dulcet Latin dialect. 
 
 The four Fi-anciscan mission there 
 Are kept with care — a legacy, 
 
 Grand relics of a golden age, 
 A priceless page from history. 
 
 There mocking-birds with silver throats 
 Pour liquid notes upon the air; 
 
 Mid gai'dens rich with scent of roses 
 My heart reposes, free from care. 
 
 And oftentimes I have in mind 
 To try and find a gifte<l singer 
 
 Who'll sing of that old Southern city 
 
 Where quaint and pi-etty customs linger. 
 
THE ALAMO 
 
THE ALAMO BY MOONLIGHT 
 
 There in the marble whiteness of a slorious Southern 
 niglit 
 
 She stands, in clear relief against flie sky. 
 Above her walls the Lone Star dances in tlie faii-j- light, 
 
 Around her battlements the night-winds sigii. 
 
 She is a silent sentinel keeping vigil o'er the town. 
 Within her Fi-eedom's Spirit deathless dwells; 
 
 Austere and gi-im upon the night lier war-scarred out- 
 lines fi'own 
 And every stone a hero's story tells. 
 
 The moonbeams and the starshine gently kiss her stern 
 old face 
 And the silvery San Antonio murmurs low, 
 And the Dixie breeze makes melody around the saci'ed 
 place 
 And tells the story of the Alamo. 
 
^s-^-^A^^-^^^ 
 
 THE FIRST MISSION 
 
LA MISION CONCEPCION 
 
 Long, long ago, unto this spot 
 Where now the Mission stands. 
 To light Faith's fire, the humble friar 
 Came from far distant lands. 
 
 The feathery huisache's green 
 Sui'i'ounds the ancient stone, 
 And up above the Spanish dove 
 Mourns glories long since flown. 
 
 The sandalled tread of ghostly feet 
 Through arch and corridor 
 Recalls the times when Mission chimes 
 Called Indians to adore. 
 
 And now once more within these walls 
 The vesper-chant doth soar. 
 The Mass is read, the Rosai-y said, 
 K'en as in days of yore. 
 

 THE SECOND MISSION 
 
THE MISSIONS 
 
 Fair relics of a lialoed past. 
 In solitude sublime, 
 The i-uthless hand of time 
 
 Has not yet made your glories fade 
 
 And you may still upbraid 
 The city's gi-ime. 
 
 An old-world glamour o'er you cast, 
 Gives to each separate stone 
 A magic all its own"; 
 
 O'er you the wild huisache's scent 
 
 With roses' odor blent 
 Is gently blown. 
 
 Your storied ruins are crumbling fast. 
 
 Empty eacli carven stall. 
 
 While, nestling to each wall, 
 The ivy's green against the gray. 
 Around you shadows play 
 
 And wild birds call. 
 
 But if you fall, your fame will last. 
 Though all your beauty's sped. 
 Your spirit long since fled. 
 
 Still ghostly monks will raise their chant, 
 
 A low Requiescant! 
 For years long dead. 
 

 ■i-^^ 
 
 
THE SILVERY SAN ANTONE 
 
 Within a golden city's heart 
 A slender silver libbon winds, 
 
 E'en so our hearts it gently hinds 
 And bids us never to depart. 
 
 Amid the city's smoke and din 
 
 It runs its winding course, 
 Like Virtue in the haunts of sin 
 
 It springs fi'oni purest source. 
 Like V^irtue, too, with quiet flow 
 
 It takes its way alone. 
 And travelers pause to gaze upon 
 
 The Silvery San Antone. 
 
 About our souls it weaves a spell 
 Nor time nor distance can efface; 
 
 We would not if we could erase 
 
 The magic channs that roimd it dwell. 
 
 Upon its crystal bosom erst 
 
 The redman sped his craft. 
 While tlu'ough the leaves in glory burst 
 
 Tlie sunlight's golden shaft. 
 Today the ancient sti"eani flows on 
 
 With beauty all its own 
 Bewitching all who gaze upon 
 
 The silvery San Antone. 
 
THE THIRD MISSION 
 
CITY OF MY DREAMS 
 
 In the grand old State of Texas there's a city dear to me, 
 For 'tis there I spent my happy hoyhood days. 
 
 And 'tis thei-e 1 gi'ew to manhood, and 'tis there I hope 
 to be 
 When life's sun upon me casts its setting rays. 
 
 Whene'er I'm far away from that dear City of my Dreams 
 How I yearn, to tread those old familial- streets! 
 
 And I almost see the gay-clad throng tliat through them 
 ever streams. 
 And its murmured speech my memory's heai-ing greets. 
 
 How often have I wandered up and down tlie river's bank, 
 And at nearby Mission i-uins stopped to rest 
 
 And to drink the cool well-water, though I never thought 
 to thank 
 The friars of old who made the desert blest. 
 
 There's a charm that clings forever to this City of my 
 Dreams, 
 And its quaint old scenes are graven in my heart. 
 And I see it once again as 'neath the Southern moon it 
 gleams 
 For to me 'twill ever be a thing apart. 
 
 And I think of it as hallowed with the gleam of bygone 
 days 
 When men lived lives of simple faith and love. 
 Devoted, brave, undazzled by the glare of Mammon's 
 blaze. 
 And placed their souls' high hope in One above. 
 
 All, sunny San Antonio, jour spell is on my heart, 
 And I'll ever thuik of you as of my home. 
 
 And whene'er I'm far away from you, unbidden tears 
 will start. 
 And draw nie to you, never more to roam. 
 
■* - ^"^^ 
 
 
 THE FOURTH MISSION 
 
MEMORIES 
 
 I>o you recall that eveniisg by the camp-fire 
 
 When you and I lay at the door of our tent. 
 
 And watched the pallid phantom moon climb high and 
 ever higher. 
 While the starlight came and went? 
 
 Do you remember that sweet day in summer 
 We rowed far out upon the dancing bay. 
 
 Tar from the shore, and thouglit not of returning to oiu' 
 camp 
 Till feU the shadows gray? 
 
 Have you forgot that walk we took by moonlight 
 When we conversed of God and of our souls, 
 
 Wliile overhead the south wind played a minor to our 
 thoughts. 
 And the great stars gleamed like coals? 
 
 Ah, those are happy memories, old comrade. 
 That all tlie dead years since cannot efface, 
 
 And thougli success and gold should bring me scores of 
 new-found friends. 
 There's none could take your place. 
 
PATRIOTISM 
 
 Thy native land gave life to thee — 
 
 That lite thou must return; 
 
 Thy native land gave love to thee — 
 
 Thy love for her must bnrn; 
 
 Thy native land gave fame to thee — 
 
 Win back for her that fame; 
 
 Thy native land gave wealth to tliee- 
 
 Give her that wealth again. 
 
^p^i«lf:fepi»li»^ §my^ 
 
 J happy. 
 
 Your peril 
 
 Ahyfleen 
 
 Vi' mce were mine, batnow, 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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