 | Some Simple Songs and A Few More Ambitious
Attempts |  |
PREFACE.
In my first book of poems I made some apologies for my work, and I feel that I should do the same for this little volume. But if I am permitted to reach old age, the public will be often called upon to pass judgment on the results of my labors. I feel that “Some Simple Songs” is a great improvement on “Avenging the Maine;” and if my next volume is as much better than “Some Simple Songs” it will need no apology.
James E. McGirt, Greensboro, N. C. April, 1901.
50
TELL ME, OH FATE.
Tell me, oh fate, is it decreed
That I leave but a blot
To stain the pages of the past?
Tell me, is this my lot?
That I leave but a blot
To stain the pages of the past?
Tell me, is this my lot?
Pray let a print of these sore feet
Rest on the sand of time;
Pray let the print of these sore hands
Upon the pages shine.
Rest on the sand of time;
Pray let the print of these sore hands
Upon the pages shine.
Years have I labored, toiled and fought,
But yet no prize I see;
Tell me, oh fate, if this is all
That I shall ever be?
But yet no prize I see;
Tell me, oh fate, if this is all
That I shall ever be?
58
I YEARN TO LEAVE THE FIELD.
In the evening, when the sun is low,
Weary and worn I feel,
I yearn to hear the bugle blow,
I yearn to leave the field.
Weary and worn I feel,
I yearn to hear the bugle blow,
I yearn to leave the field.
And when the blessed bugle's sound
Comes floating to my ear,
I leave the plow where e'er I'm found;
My mule comes from the gear.
Comes floating to my ear,
I leave the plow where e'er I'm found;
My mule comes from the gear.
I've heard the band, the flute and lyre;
None so my soul can stir
As does that blessed horn I hear
Calling me home to her.
None so my soul can stir
As does that blessed horn I hear
Calling me home to her.
59
It's more than home that music brings
Which makes it dear to me;
It calls me to my banjo strings
And Inez to my knee.
Which makes it dear to me;
It calls me to my banjo strings
And Inez to my knee.
And when I near my home I see—
Let it be soon or late—
My Inez coming out to me,
She meets me at the gate.
Let it be soon or late—
My Inez coming out to me,
She meets me at the gate.
Some times she meets me down the path,
We stroll home arm in arm.
My meals she'd place near the hearth;
She always kept them warm.
We stroll home arm in arm.
My meals she'd place near the hearth;
She always kept them warm.
Not now, as once that dear old home;
Inez will come no more,
'Till that great time when I shall roam
Towards the other shore.
Inez will come no more,
'Till that great time when I shall roam
Towards the other shore.
60
And when my earthly task is done,
The sun sinks in the west,
I'll hear the sound, go plodding home,
By Inez side to rest.
The sun sinks in the west,
I'll hear the sound, go plodding home,
By Inez side to rest.
Nearing my home; oh! to behold,
The pearly gates I'll see,
And Inez, as in days of old,
Standing to welcome me.
The pearly gates I'll see,
And Inez, as in days of old,
Standing to welcome me.
For me the gate I see ajar;
Shining is Inez's face.
The distance—ah! it seems so far—
My arms ache to embrace.
Shining is Inez's face.
The distance—ah! it seems so far—
My arms ache to embrace.
72
DEAR LITTLE BOOK.
Dear little book, dear little brook,Thou babbling bubbbles of my heart,
Our year together is at an end,
And now we part.
Alone now thou must face the weather;
Roam o'er strange lands. You know not whether,
To find a friend.
Go cheerful on thy way,
Go chatter out thy lay,
I bid thee now God-speed.
And if some one amid the throng
Should hear and feel your simple song,
And with their cloak of love enfold,
To save thee from the biting cold,
My prayer is that you heed,
And give him comfort in his need.
| Some Simple Songs and A Few More Ambitious
Attempts | |