Carolina Chansons eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 83 pages of information about Carolina Chansons.
"He would have gone, my man; He was like that.  In the night When I awoke with a start, And brought his voice up from my dream: That was goodbye and godspeed. I know he is there with the rest."

    Brave, but with quivering lips,
    Each alone in the press of the crowd,
    Was saying it over and over.

    The day flooded all of the sky;
    And the ships of the sullen blockade
    Weighed anchor and drew down the wind,
    Leaving their wreck to the waves. 
    Hour heaved slowly on hour,
    Yet how could the city rejoice
    With the women out there by the wall! 
    Night grew under the wharves,
    And crept through the listening streets,
    Until only the red of the tiles
    Seemed warm from the breath of the day;
    And the faces that waited and watched
    Blurred into a wavering line,
    Like foam on the curve of the dark,
    Down there by the reticent sea.

    What if the darkness should bring
    The lean blockade-runners across
    With food for the hungry and spent.... 
    Who could joy in the sudden release
    While the faces, still-smiling, but wan,
    Turned slowly to hallow the town?


[6] See the note at the back of the book.


    Bring me one breath from the deep salt sea,
    Ye vagrant upland airs! 
    Over your forest and field and lea,
    From the windy deeps that have mothered me,
    To the heart of one who cares.

    Clear to the peace of the sunlit park,
    You bring with your evening lull
    The vesper song of the meadow lark;
    But my soul is sick for the seething dark,
    And the scream of a wind-blown gull.

    And bring to me from the ocean’s breast
    No crooning lullaby;
    But the shout of a bleak storm-riven crest
    As it shoulders up in the sodden West
    And hurtles down the sky.

    That, breathing deep, I may feel the sweep
    Of the wind and the driving rain. 
    For so I know that my heart will leap
    To meet the call of the strident deep,
    And will thrill to life again.






    There is deliberateness in all sea-island ways,
    As alien to our days as stone wheels are. 
    The Islands cannot see the use of life
    Which only lives for change. 
    There days are flat,
    And all things must move slowly;
    Even the seasons are conservative—­
    No sudden flaunting of wild colors in the fall,
    Only a gradual fading of the

Project Gutenberg
Carolina Chansons from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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