* * * * *

In the far times when perchance hearts were stronger,
  When for a faith men could face death alone,
And it would seem that love lasted longer,
  Such a white soul would have come to its own.

Down in the city the people but noted
  One who was silent when things went awry,
Toiled at dull tasks, and was strangely devoted
  To small deeds of kindness that others passed by.

Down in the city the people but noted
  One who thought little of wealth and its ways;
One whose true words were full often misquoted,
  One who laughed lightly at blame or at praise.

A SOUTHERN LULLABY

Little honey baby, shet yo’ eyes up tight;—­
  (Shadow-man is comin’ from de moon!)—­
You’s as sweet as roses if dey is so pink an white;
  (Shadow-man ’11 get here mighty soon.)

Little honey baby, keep yo’ footses still!—­
  (Rocky-bye, oh, rocky, rocky-bye!)
Hush yo’ now, an listen to dat lonesome whippo’-will;
  Don’t yo’ fix yo’ lip an start to cry.

Little honey baby, stop dat winkin’ quick!;
  (Hear de hoot-owl in de cotton-wood!)
Yess—­I sees yo’ eyes adoin’ dat dere triflin’ trick—­
  (He gets chillun if dey isn’t good.)

Little honey baby, what yo’ think yo’ see?—­
  (Sister keep on climbin’ to de sky—­)
Dat’s a June bug—­it aint got no stinger, lak a bee—­
  (Reach de glory city by an by.)

Little honey baby, what yo’ skeery at?—­
  (Go down, Moses—­down to Phar-e-oh,)—­
No—­dat isn’t nuffin but a furry fly-round bat;—­
  (Say, he’d betta let dose people go.)

Little honey baby, yo’ is all ma own,—­
  Deed yo’ is.—­Yes,—­dat’s a fia-fly;—­
If I didn’t hab yo’—­reckon I’d be all alone;
  (Rocky-bye—­oh, rocky, rocky-bye.)

Little honey baby, shet yo’ eyes up tight;—­
  (Shadow man is comin’ from de moon,)
You’s as sweet as roses, if dey is so pink and white;
  (Shadow-man ’11 get here mighty soon.)

   The lines in brackets are supposed to be sung or chanted. 
   The Southern “Mammy” seldom sang a song through, but
   interladed it with comments.—­V.S.

THE FAIRY CLOCK

Silver clock!  O silver clock! tell to me the time o’ day! 
Is there yet a little hour left for us to work and play? 
Tell me when the sun will set—­tiny globe of silver-grey.

It has been so glad a world since the coming of the morn,
Oft I wondered when I met any souls who seemed forlorn—­
And I scarce gave heed to those who were old or travel worn.

Mayhap I have loved too well the merry fleeting things;
Run too lightly with the wind—­chased too many shining wings;
Thought too seldom of the night, and the silence that it brings.

Well I fear me I have been but an idler in the sun—­
All unfinished are the tasks long and long ago begun—­
In the dark perchance they weep, who have left their work undone.