Joel Chandler Harris' life of Henry W. Grady including his writings and speeches
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Joel Chandler Harris' life of Henry W. Grady including his writings and speeches
Grady, Henry Woodfin, 1850-1889
Great soul with eloquence o’erflowing,
In rhythmic measures sweet and grand,
Great heart whose mission was a message
Of peace and good will, thro’ the land.
O tongue of flame by truth inspired!
Tho’ thou art silent, and we never
May hear again thy stirring strains,
They’ll echo in our halls forever.
Thy life was like a rushing river,
That proudly bore upon its breast
Our highest hopes unto a haven,
Where heroes dwell, and patriots rest.
Sleep well! tho’ thou art gone, the grave
Holds but the outward earthly shrine,
That held within its clay-cold breast
The sacred spark of life divine.
Sleep well! immortal, unforgotten,
Where buds and blossoms round thee blow,
And the soft fires of Southern sunsets
In glory gild thy couch below.
ELIZABETH J. HEREFORD.
DALLAS, TEXAS.
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HENRY W. GRADY.
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IF Death had waited till the grateful Land
He championed with his life had bent and crowned,
With a proud, civic garland of command
That knightly brow, with laurels freshly bound!
Yet he cared not for crowds—this wrestler strong;
If down the arena swept some warm, wild breath
Of his People’s praise—this bore his soul along,
This came with sweetness in the midst of death,
For love was more to him than crown or wreath.
Ah! half her Sun is stricken from the South,
Since he is dead—her tropic-hearted one,—
Will the pomegranate flower’s vivid mouth
Open to drink the dews when Frost is done?
Will the gay red-bird flash like winged flame,
The mocking-bird awake its thrilling lyre?
Will Spring and Song—will Love ev’n seem the same,
Now he is gone—the spirit whose light and fire
And pulsing sweetness were like Spring to make,
The gray earth young?—will Light and Love awake,
And he still sleep?—and we weep for his sake!
MARY E. BRYAN.
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THE OLD AND THE NEW.
-------
NOT to the beauteous maid who weeps
And wails in broken numbers,
Where ’neath the solemn cypress sleeps
The brave in dreamless slumbers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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