_Prose Notes and Bibliography_ On the Chimes 121 On the Pirates 122 On the Sewee Indians 124 On La Fayette 125 On Theodosia Burr 126 On "The Last Crew" 127 On Edgar Allan Poe 128 On "Marsh Tackies" 130 Bibliography 131 CAROLINA CHANSONS LEGENDS OF THE LOW COUNTRY SÉANCE AT SUNRISE Place the new hands In the old hands Of the old generation, And let us tilt tables In the high room Of our imagination. Let the thick veil glow thin, At sunrise--at sunrise-- Let the strange eyes peer in, The red, the black, and the white faces Of the still living dead Of the three races. Let a quaint voice begin: _Voice of an Indian_ "Gone from the land, We leave the music of our names, As pleasant as the sound of waters; Gone is the log-lodge and the skin tepee, And moons ago the ghost-canoe brought home The latest of our sons and daughters-- Yet still we linger in tobacco smoke And in the rustling fields of maize; Faint are the tracks our moccasins have left, But they are there, down all your ways." _Voice of a Slave_ "We do not talk Of hours in the rice When days were long, Nor of old masters Who are with us here Beyond all right or wrong. Only white afternoons come back, When in the fields We reached the Mercy Seat On wings of song." _Voice of a Planter_ "Nothing moves there but the night wind, Blowing the mosses like smoke; All would be silent as moonlight But for the owl in the oak-- Stairways that lead up to nothing-- Windows like terrible scars-- Snakes on a log in the cistern Peering at stars...." _Spirit of Prophecy_ "Dawn with its childish colors Stipples the solemn vault of night; Behind the horizon the sun shakes a bloody fist; Mysteries stand naked by the lakes of mist; Spirits take flight, The medicine man, The voodoo doctor-- Witches mount brooms. The day looms. Faster it comes, Bringing young giants Who hate solitude, And march with drums-- Beat--beat--beat, Down every ancient street, The young giants! Minded like boys: Action for action's sake they love And noise for noise."