OUR PAGE OF POETS

A thousand yelling savages proclaimTheir swift advance. What voice or hand can tameThe maddened multitude? With curses loud,With guns and halters armed, the frenzied crowdHas rushed the guard. A lurid bonfire showsThe prison walls they storm, while passion glowsIn many an eye, alike, of grizzled Age,And ruddy Youth, aroused to brutal rage.Their sentries overcome, a quick retreat,The soldiers make to cover. Sledges beatAnd crash through iron doors before the eyesOf city officers. And flames that riseFrom heaps of furniture and fagots, blended,Upon the stair the soldiers have ascended,A roaring furnace make the prison hall;While wild alarms the fire department call.The screams of prisoners, in terror, swellThe clamorous noise to sounds as harsh as hell,As firemen, driven by shots and brandished knivesAnd dynamite—to save their precious lives—Desert their posts; and Manhood weakened fallsIn darker ruin than wrecks of battered walls;For men, once held courageous, quail and cower,While Anarchy, unchallenged, seizes power.At last the desperate prisoner released,But chased and caught again, like savage beast,Is dragged before the self-appointed courtWhose blear-eyed judge enjoys the awful sport.In reckless impudence, like beggars ride,He sits—with oaths where Justice should presideCondemns. About the wretch his followers close,With threats of death, if aught their will oppose.In protest Wisdom lifts her voice in vain;With jeers and ribald shouts and high disdain,The Mob uprears his front; but Justice stands,And, arm uplifted, solemnly demands:Think you, because I’m slow as God is slow,That any can escape me? Nay, the lowAnd high alike I reach. Though lame, I smiteAt last all who defy my sovereign might.With hunger wild, ferocious beasts obeyTheir lust for blood—pursue and rend the prey;But baser far than beast or fiend or ghoul,Unfit to dwell in caves where tigers prowl,Or live where lions lick their bloody paws,And rule the jungle-world with ravenous jaws;Incarnate Savagery, athirst for gore,Begone! and show your hideous face no more.Lest brooding Terror bring the she-wolf daysAgain, and men afraid, for safety raiseAbove their lawless heads a sceptered handTo rule with iron Freedom’s bleeding land.The rule of ruffians, who would bear, insteadOf low-bred Tyranny, with hydra head,The nations choose them kings to give the measureThat men will use, of Freedom’s priceless treasure.The seed of crime from every halter flies,When multitudes of murderers ariseTo execute the laws; by every stakeWhere lawless lynchers direful vengeance take,Abundant harvests grow. Beware! The strainsOf high Arabian blood, upon the plains,By Spanish conquerors left, to mustangs fell—Surprises of the future, who can tell?O, men! with Southern hearts, unselfish, brave,Go hunt this monster down—the negro save:And save your land, your homes: it is your placeTo save from hurt the fair Caucasian race;As men of Anglo-Saxon blood you claimA primacy. But hear: Except you aimTo hold such leadership by lofty deedAnd high ideal, you will not always lead.If Justice, grieved, shall tear her temples downAnd cast aside from country, city, town,Her pillars, church and school—as courts and jails.Dismantled, fall, our great Republic fails.With insults, Wrong exults o’er Right exiled;The smiling field reverts to tangled wild;To violence and blood, unhappy men,Abandoned, turn the home to beastly den.—J. THOMAS COOPER.

A thousand yelling savages proclaim

Their swift advance. What voice or hand can tame

The maddened multitude? With curses loud,

With guns and halters armed, the frenzied crowd

Has rushed the guard. A lurid bonfire shows

The prison walls they storm, while passion glows

In many an eye, alike, of grizzled Age,

And ruddy Youth, aroused to brutal rage.

Their sentries overcome, a quick retreat,The soldiers make to cover. Sledges beatAnd crash through iron doors before the eyesOf city officers. And flames that riseFrom heaps of furniture and fagots, blended,Upon the stair the soldiers have ascended,A roaring furnace make the prison hall;While wild alarms the fire department call.

Their sentries overcome, a quick retreat,

The soldiers make to cover. Sledges beat

And crash through iron doors before the eyes

Of city officers. And flames that rise

From heaps of furniture and fagots, blended,

Upon the stair the soldiers have ascended,

A roaring furnace make the prison hall;

While wild alarms the fire department call.

The screams of prisoners, in terror, swellThe clamorous noise to sounds as harsh as hell,As firemen, driven by shots and brandished knivesAnd dynamite—to save their precious lives—Desert their posts; and Manhood weakened fallsIn darker ruin than wrecks of battered walls;For men, once held courageous, quail and cower,While Anarchy, unchallenged, seizes power.

The screams of prisoners, in terror, swell

The clamorous noise to sounds as harsh as hell,

As firemen, driven by shots and brandished knives

And dynamite—to save their precious lives—

Desert their posts; and Manhood weakened falls

In darker ruin than wrecks of battered walls;

For men, once held courageous, quail and cower,

While Anarchy, unchallenged, seizes power.

At last the desperate prisoner released,But chased and caught again, like savage beast,Is dragged before the self-appointed courtWhose blear-eyed judge enjoys the awful sport.In reckless impudence, like beggars ride,He sits—with oaths where Justice should presideCondemns. About the wretch his followers close,With threats of death, if aught their will oppose.

At last the desperate prisoner released,

But chased and caught again, like savage beast,

Is dragged before the self-appointed court

Whose blear-eyed judge enjoys the awful sport.

In reckless impudence, like beggars ride,

He sits—with oaths where Justice should preside

Condemns. About the wretch his followers close,

With threats of death, if aught their will oppose.

In protest Wisdom lifts her voice in vain;With jeers and ribald shouts and high disdain,The Mob uprears his front; but Justice stands,And, arm uplifted, solemnly demands:Think you, because I’m slow as God is slow,That any can escape me? Nay, the lowAnd high alike I reach. Though lame, I smiteAt last all who defy my sovereign might.

In protest Wisdom lifts her voice in vain;

With jeers and ribald shouts and high disdain,

The Mob uprears his front; but Justice stands,

And, arm uplifted, solemnly demands:

Think you, because I’m slow as God is slow,

That any can escape me? Nay, the low

And high alike I reach. Though lame, I smite

At last all who defy my sovereign might.

With hunger wild, ferocious beasts obeyTheir lust for blood—pursue and rend the prey;But baser far than beast or fiend or ghoul,Unfit to dwell in caves where tigers prowl,Or live where lions lick their bloody paws,And rule the jungle-world with ravenous jaws;Incarnate Savagery, athirst for gore,Begone! and show your hideous face no more.

With hunger wild, ferocious beasts obey

Their lust for blood—pursue and rend the prey;

But baser far than beast or fiend or ghoul,

Unfit to dwell in caves where tigers prowl,

Or live where lions lick their bloody paws,

And rule the jungle-world with ravenous jaws;

Incarnate Savagery, athirst for gore,

Begone! and show your hideous face no more.

Lest brooding Terror bring the she-wolf daysAgain, and men afraid, for safety raiseAbove their lawless heads a sceptered handTo rule with iron Freedom’s bleeding land.The rule of ruffians, who would bear, insteadOf low-bred Tyranny, with hydra head,The nations choose them kings to give the measureThat men will use, of Freedom’s priceless treasure.

Lest brooding Terror bring the she-wolf days

Again, and men afraid, for safety raise

Above their lawless heads a sceptered hand

To rule with iron Freedom’s bleeding land.

The rule of ruffians, who would bear, instead

Of low-bred Tyranny, with hydra head,

The nations choose them kings to give the measure

That men will use, of Freedom’s priceless treasure.

The seed of crime from every halter flies,When multitudes of murderers ariseTo execute the laws; by every stakeWhere lawless lynchers direful vengeance take,Abundant harvests grow. Beware! The strainsOf high Arabian blood, upon the plains,By Spanish conquerors left, to mustangs fell—Surprises of the future, who can tell?

The seed of crime from every halter flies,

When multitudes of murderers arise

To execute the laws; by every stake

Where lawless lynchers direful vengeance take,

Abundant harvests grow. Beware! The strains

Of high Arabian blood, upon the plains,

By Spanish conquerors left, to mustangs fell—

Surprises of the future, who can tell?

O, men! with Southern hearts, unselfish, brave,Go hunt this monster down—the negro save:And save your land, your homes: it is your placeTo save from hurt the fair Caucasian race;As men of Anglo-Saxon blood you claimA primacy. But hear: Except you aimTo hold such leadership by lofty deedAnd high ideal, you will not always lead.

O, men! with Southern hearts, unselfish, brave,

Go hunt this monster down—the negro save:

And save your land, your homes: it is your place

To save from hurt the fair Caucasian race;

As men of Anglo-Saxon blood you claim

A primacy. But hear: Except you aim

To hold such leadership by lofty deed

And high ideal, you will not always lead.

If Justice, grieved, shall tear her temples downAnd cast aside from country, city, town,Her pillars, church and school—as courts and jails.Dismantled, fall, our great Republic fails.With insults, Wrong exults o’er Right exiled;The smiling field reverts to tangled wild;To violence and blood, unhappy men,Abandoned, turn the home to beastly den.

If Justice, grieved, shall tear her temples down

And cast aside from country, city, town,

Her pillars, church and school—as courts and jails.

Dismantled, fall, our great Republic fails.

With insults, Wrong exults o’er Right exiled;

The smiling field reverts to tangled wild;

To violence and blood, unhappy men,

Abandoned, turn the home to beastly den.

—J. THOMAS COOPER.

Majestically, from the pearl-faced gateOf eastern skies, the mighty stream doth pourA crimpling current through the golden doorOf western bounds; nor doth our boat abateAught of its strife with tides, and night doth waitAmbushed in shadows yonder crag throws o’er.And foam-capped waves, which lap the willowed shore,Are chasing us like hungry hounds of Fate.What name hast thou, O, Spirit brooding here?Elusive thou, as creatures of a dream,Or phantoms of the mist, gone with a breath.We know not if we must adore or fearThis mystery that holds the land and stream—And yonder shades; bescreen they Life or death?WILL MITT SHIELDS.

Majestically, from the pearl-faced gate

Of eastern skies, the mighty stream doth pour

A crimpling current through the golden door

Of western bounds; nor doth our boat abate

Aught of its strife with tides, and night doth wait

Ambushed in shadows yonder crag throws o’er.

And foam-capped waves, which lap the willowed shore,

Are chasing us like hungry hounds of Fate.

What name hast thou, O, Spirit brooding here?Elusive thou, as creatures of a dream,Or phantoms of the mist, gone with a breath.We know not if we must adore or fearThis mystery that holds the land and stream—And yonder shades; bescreen they Life or death?

What name hast thou, O, Spirit brooding here?

Elusive thou, as creatures of a dream,

Or phantoms of the mist, gone with a breath.

We know not if we must adore or fear

This mystery that holds the land and stream—

And yonder shades; bescreen they Life or death?

WILL MITT SHIELDS.

TROTWOOD’S MONTHLYDevoted to Farm, Horse and Home.

TROTWOOD PUBLISHING CO., Nashville, Tenn. Office 161 Fourth Ave. North.

JOHN TROTWOOD MOORE,Editor-in-Chief.

TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION:One Year, $1 00; Single Copy, 10 cents.Advertising Rates on application.

NASHVILLE, TENN., DECEMBER, 1905.

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