SONG FOR "THE JACQUERIE."

MAY the maiden,

Violet-laden

Out of the violet sea,

Comes and hovers

Over lovers,

Over thee, Marie, and me,

Over me and thee.

Day the stately,

Sunken lately

Into the violet sea,

Backward hovers

Over lovers,

Over thee, Marie, and me,

Over me and thee.

Night the holy,

Sailing slowly

Over the violet sea,

Stars uncovers

Over lovers,

Stars for thee, Marie, and me,

Stars for me and thee.

MACON, GEORGIA, 1868.

SONG FOR "THE JACQUERIE.”

BETRAYAL.

THE sun has kissed the violet sea,

And burned the violet to a rose.

O Sea! wouldst thou not better be

Mere violet still? Who knows? who knows?

Well hides the violet in the wood :

The dead leaf wrinkles her a hood,
And winter's ill is violet's good;
But the bold glory of the rose,
It quickly comes and quickly goes—
Red petals whirling in white snows,
Ah me!

The sun has burnt the rose-red sea :
The rose is turned to ashes gray.
O Sea, O Sea, mightst thou but be
The violet thou hast been to-day!

The sun is brave, the sun is bright,
The sun is lord of love and light ;
But after him it cometh night.
Dim anguish of the lonesome dark !—
Once a girl's body, stiff and stark,
Was laid in a tomb without a mark,

MACON, GEORGIA, 1868.

Ah me!

(All)

(All)

(All)

(All.)

(All)

(All.)

SONG FOR "THE JACQUERIE."

THE hound was cuffed, the hound was kicked,
O' the ears was cropped, o' the tail was nicked,
Oo-hoo-o, howled the hound.

The hound into his kennel crept;

He rarely wept, he never slept.

His mouth he always open kept

Licking his bitter wound,
The hound,

U-lu-lo, howled the hound.

A star upon his kennel shone

That showed the hound a meat-bare bone.

O hungry was the hound!

The hound had but a churlish wit.

He seized the bone, he crunched, he bit.

“An thou wert Master, I had slit

Thy throat with a huge wound,”

Quo' hound.

O, angry was the hound.

The star in castle-window shone,
The Master lay abed, alone.

Oh ho, why not? quo' hound.

He leapt, he seized the throat, he tore
The Master, head from neck, to floor,
And rolled the head i' the kennel door,
And fled and salved his wound,

Good hound!

U-lu-lo, howled the hound.

MACON, GEORGIA, 1868.

THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF

STERLING AND SARAH LANIER,

SEPTEMBER 27, 1868.

BY THE ELDEST GRANDSON.

A RAINBOW span of fifty years,
Painted upon a cloud of tears,

In blue for hopes and red for fears,

Finds end in a golden hour to-day.

Ah, you to our childhood the legend told, "At the end of the rainbow lies the gold," And now in our thrilling hearts we hold

The gold that never will pass away.

Gold crushed from the quartz of a crystal life, Gold hammered with blows of human strife, Gold burnt in the love of man and wife,

Till it is pure as the very flame :

Gold that the miser will not have,
Gold that is good beyond the grave,

Gold that the patient and the brave
Amass, neglecting praise and blame.

O golden hour that caps the time

Since, heart to heart like rhyme to rhyme,
You stood and listened to the chime
Of inner bells by spirits rung,
That tinkled many a secret sweet
Concerning how two souls should meet,
And whispered of Time's flying feet

With a most piquant silver tongue.

O golden day,—a golden crown

For the kingly heads that bowed not down
To win a smile or 'scape a frown,

Except the smile and frown of Heaven!
Dear heads, still dark with raven hair;
Dear hearts, still white in spite of care;
Dear eyes, still black and bright and fair
As any eyes to mortals given!

Old parents of a restless race,

You miss full many a bonny face

That would have smiled a filial grace

Around your Golden Wedding wine.
But God is good and God is great.
His will be done, if soon or late.
Your dead stand happy in yon Gate

And call you blessed while they shine.

So, drop the tear and dry the eyes.
Your rainbow glitters in the skies.

Here's golden wine: young, old, arise :

With cups as full as our souls, we say :

"Two Hearts, that wrought with smiles through tears This rainbow span of fifty years,

Behold how true, true love appears

True gold for your Golden Wedding day!'

MACON, GEORGIA, September, 1868.