THE DILETTANTE:  A MODERN TYPE

  He scribbles some in prose and verse,
    And now and then he prints it;
  He paints a little,—­gathers some
    Of Nature’s gold and mints it.

  He plays a little, sings a song,
    Acts tragic roles, or funny;
  He does, because his love is strong,
    But not, oh, not for money!

  He studies almost everything
    From social art to science;
  A thirsty mind, a flowing spring,
    Demand and swift compliance.

  He looms above the sordid crowd—­
    At least through friendly lenses;
  While his mamma looks pleased and proud,
    And kindly pays expenses.

BY THE STREAM

  By the stream I dream in calm delight, and watch as in a glass,
  How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued and white-robed maidens pass,
  And the water into ripples breaks and sparkles as it spreads,
  Like a host of armored knights with silver helmets on their heads. 
  And I deem the stream an emblem fit of human life may go,
  For I find a mind may sparkle much and yet but shallows show,
  And a soul may glow with myriad lights and wondrous mysteries,
  When it only lies a dormant thing and mirrors what it sees.

THE COLORED SOLDIERS

  If the muse were mine to tempt it
    And my feeble voice were strong,
  If my tongue were trained to measures,
    I would sing a stirring song. 
  I would sing a song heroic
    Of those noble sons of Ham,
  Of the gallant colored soldiers
    Who fought for Uncle Sam!

  In the early days you scorned them,
    And with many a flip and flout
  Said “These battles are the white man’s,
    And the whites will fight them out.” 
  Up the hills you fought and faltered,
    In the vales you strove and bled,
  While your ears still heard the thunder
    Of the foes’ advancing tread.

  Then distress fell on the nation,
    And the flag was drooping low;
  Should the dust pollute your banner? 
    No! the nation shouted, No! 
  So when War, in savage triumph,
    Spread abroad his funeral pall—­
  Then you called the colored soldiers,
    And they answered to your call.

  And like hounds unleashed and eager
    For the life blood of the prey,
  Sprung they forth and bore them bravely
    In the thickest of the fray. 
  And where’er the fight was hottest,
    Where the bullets fastest fell,
  There they pressed unblanched and fearless
    At the very mouth of hell.

  Ah, they rallied to the standard
    To uphold it by their might;
  None were stronger in the labors,
    None were braver in the fight. 
  From the blazing breach of Wagner
    To the plains of Olustee,
  They were foremost in the fight
    Of the battles of the free.