 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
129
“SAVE THE OLD SOUTH!”
Two hands the God of Nature gave,
One swift to smite, one fond to save,
Betwixt the cradle and the grave.
One swift to smite, one fond to save,
Betwixt the cradle and the grave.
Where Strength hews out his stony stent,
Where woods are felled and metals blent,
The right hand measures his content.
Where woods are felled and metals blent,
The right hand measures his content.
Where Skill sits tireless at her loom,
Where beauty wafts her transient bloom,
The tender saving hand has room.
Where beauty wafts her transient bloom,
The tender saving hand has room.
And Fate, as in a tourney fine,
The differing powers does match and join,
That each may wear the crown divine.
The differing powers does match and join,
That each may wear the crown divine.
But manhood in its zeal and haste
Leaves cruel overthrow and waste
Upon its pathway, roughly traced.
Leaves cruel overthrow and waste
Upon its pathway, roughly traced.
Then woman comes with patient hand,
With loving heart of high command,
To save the councils of the land.
With loving heart of high command,
To save the councils of the land.
130
Round this old church so poor to see,
Record of years that swiftly flee,
She draws the chain of sympathy.
Record of years that swiftly flee,
She draws the chain of sympathy.
The men who make their gold their weal,
Who guard with powder and with steel,
Have not a weapon she can feel.
Who guard with powder and with steel,
Have not a weapon she can feel.
Before the venerable pile,
Armed with a reason and a smile,
She stations with benignant wile.
Armed with a reason and a smile,
She stations with benignant wile.
Like Barbara Frietchie in her day,
She has a royal will to say:
“You shall not tear one stone away.”
She has a royal will to say:
“You shall not tear one stone away.”
You disavow the spirit need
That avarice may build with heed
The gilded monuments of greed.
That avarice may build with heed
The gilded monuments of greed.
What hope, what help can patriots know?
Only this counter mandate slow,
“The mothers will not have it so.”
Only this counter mandate slow,
“The mothers will not have it so.”
Mothers! the wrongs of ages wait!
Amend them, ministers of fate!
Redeem the church, reform the state!
Amend them, ministers of fate!
Redeem the church, reform the state!
| From Sunset Ridge | |