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TT TTT T T TT O T7* T T TTA Conducted by
I 11/ I 1 U <5 1/ J. 1 I > I J Ada Louise “Bryan
A ‘Department of Expression Tor Those 'Who Teel and Think.
HER JUSTIFICATION.
You say I am false, since my spirit now
To you does not lowly and lovingly bow;
You claim that my heart on a time heat true
With deep, unmistakable love for you.
I “false?” Well, if false to you, I hold
Not false to myself, as I was of old,
When, faithless to all that was best in me,
Your villainous nature I failed to see.
For if I had seen, do you think that I
Had thrilled with pleasure when you were by?
Do you think I had lifted, with tremulous bliss,
My lips to meet yours in a passionate kiss?
Believe, for I know, I am truer today
Than I was in those days long since passed away;
Days when I loved, unwisely yet well,
One who had dragged me with him down to hell!
No longer I love you, at last I am free,
For a good angel whispered high truths unto me;
Grown older, moro earnest, this, sir, is the truth:
I demand nobler things than I did in my youth.
MARGARET A. RICHARD.
CHAT.
A review of a poet’s book by a poet is one of our
offerings today. Margaret Richard is generous in
praise of her sister poet, but her judgment is not bi
ased as is shown by fine excerpts she gives from Miss
Cocke’s volume, “Cherokee Rose” and other poems.
I have not seen the book, but Miss Richard’s re
view makes me wish to read it. Also the title of
the book holds a charm for me, Cherokee Rose!
As I repeat it, I seem to see the hedges of rich
glistening green and snowy blossoms that encircle
the fields and lawns of so many homes in my native
middle Florida, particularly those around dear old
picturesque Tallahassee, which in by gone days was
noted for its social charm, its fair women and gal
lant men. Few roses are lovelier than the Cherokee
with its glossy evergreen foliage, its petals white
as if carved out of marble and its golden heart.
Their musical Indian name associates the
flower with the brave native tribe that once owned
and loved the fair hills and valleys.
Margaret Richard herself contributes a strong
poem to the Household. The story it tells of a heart
freeing itself from the thrall of an unworthy love
will appeal to the experience of some of our readers.
Such chains are hard to break —sometimes —and
one sympathizes with the relief and thankfulness
of the spirit that has broken its fetters. Margaret
Richard is, by instinct and study, wise in the lore of
the heart. Instance the different phases and shades
of love which she paints in her poem-novel, Virginia
Vaughn.
Ben Ivy, that surely was an awful dream of yours.
I should call it a nightmare. The Indians say that
dreams are things whispered in the ears of sleepers
by spirits—good and bad. I fancy the spirit that
told you the dream story of the dark swamp haunted
with murderers was black and ugly like the toad
shaped imp that (according to Milton) whispered the
first evil dream to Eve asleep among the roses of
Eden. I incline to a symbolic interpretation of Leo’s
dream. By the way, what a restful picture is that
which Leo gives us of “Evening on the Farm.”
Dr. Nat, who pleads for the sparing of our ideals,
is a new and most welcome visitor to The Golden
Age; but he was a prime favorite in the Sunny South
Household—a philosopher, witty but wise and kindly.
I hope he will favor us often. “A man or his shoes”
is a humorous commentary on a unique poem, as
full of puns as a pie of plums. The writer believes
(or says she does) that if women were allowed by
custom the privilege of wooing the men they prefer,
It would do away with some of the often-talked about
marriage infelicity. What do you think about it?
Alle of Alabama takes a negative view.
I hope some of you will make your Thanksgiving
dessert after Mattie Howard’s recipes. Reading them
makes one’s palate tingle to taste their deliciousness.
Alva, I am glad you told the Household how to
have’ blooming hyacinths and narcissus in winter
and as gifts at Christmas. I have several glass
bowls filled with narcissus bulbs, kept in place by
pretty white rocks. Already they have sent down
lots of tiny rootlets into the water. I have also
hyacinths in glasses and pots. For next week we
have a fine program of sketches, letters and poems.
ADA LOUISE BRYAN.
The Golden Age for November 14, 1907.
Wtb ®ur Gorreeponbents
A SOUTHERN POET.
Speaking of books by southern authors, there is
one to which I wish to call the attention of the
reader —the reader in general and not the southern
reader in particular. For, though written by a south
erner, and though many of the poems in this little
volume pay tribute to things peculiar to the south,
yet it is not wholly sectional, and is in no sense
narrow. A native of Alabama, a lover of its scenery,
its birds and its flowers, it is only natural that
Miss Cocke should voice in song some of her senti
ments concerning these. Thus, after naming some
of the most lovely roses of the world:
“Peerless in their high born beauty,”
she claims for one more lowly, yet by her more
beloved:
“But one born this side the sea
Is a fairer flow’r to me—
The sweet rose named Cherokee.”
Other southern themes are, “The Alabama,” “Cot
ton,” “Marion,” “Hunting the Swamp Fox,” and
“Mocking Bird,” though of this last it would appear
there was nothing left to say, so many have seemed
to sing exhaustively of it. But both in conception
and execution, Miss Cocke’s tribute to this king of
songsters is worthy to be ranked with the best
hitherto written upon the subject. Her beautiful
poem of nine almost faultless verses closes thus:
“Thou poet-bird, had Keats but heard one stanza
from thy story,
What song divine thine own would shrine, in bright,
undying glory!
And that fine soul, of airiest goal, who felt the lark’s
elation,
Had yet from thee learned rhapsody of loftier
exaltation!”
Miss Cocke does not confine herself, however, to
Alabama and the south; she roves far fields, and
many of her poems are universal in their interest
and appeal. Among her ballads are several that
would be excellent for recitation, notably, “Legend
of San Martin Bridge.” a story that arouses one’s
sympathy to the fullest, and pleases by ending
happily, though the reader is led to expect and fear
a tragical climax.
To me the most attractive of these poems are the
ones that seem to have been born of inner experience
as if the poet had obeyed the injur tion: “Look
thou into thine heart, and write.” Many of them
are touched with pathos, but all are written from a
high ethical standpoint, revealing the fact that the
author, instead of indulging too freely in self-pity
and self-analysis, feels deeply also for her fellow
creatures. And she sympathizes with them in their
joys as well as in their sorrows, even when happi
ness similar to theirs is withheld from her. In
“Ships That Come Tn”—ships that come to others,
while she, alas, vainly watches for her own—she
closes with these two stanzas:
“Yet, blow the wind east, or blow it west,
And let the mad breakers rage and foam —
Far over the sea, somewhere. I know,
Some ship is gallantly sailing home;
Some heart runs o’er with —exceeding joy—
Some hearth is glowing with —new-found light—
And I am as glad as glad can be
That some other soul is glad tonight.
“And still am I fain to watch the deep,
And still I wander the wave-swept sand,
With yearning no speech has power to tell,
With prayer that my ship may come to land —
Aye, ships are coming; a hundred sails
I trace on the dim horizon’s line,
And ‘Welcome!’ I cry to each and all,
Though never a single one Is mine.”
Does it not strike a higher note than that beautiful
poem, “Ships at Sea,” by an older and now fam
ous poet, in which a heart, voicing its own great
desire, seems to forget others?
Many of the heart-poems are deeply religious,
and some bearing upon the life of Christ are espe
cially beautiful and touching. From these I would
like to quote, but if I were to give excerpts from
"all worthy of the reader’s attention, it would mean
to copy almost all in the little book.
The volume is somewhat marred by typographical
errors, showing careless proof-reading, but the intrin
sic merit of the poems largely atones for this, and
despite it they reach the heart and make their ap
peal.
Newberry, S. C. MARGARET A. RICHARD.
*Cherokee Rose, and Other Southern Poems, by
Zitella Cocke. Published by Richard Badger, The
Gorham Press, Boston. Price $1.25.
LEO’S VISION—A REALISTIC DREAM.
The young lady editor of The Golden Age suggests
that I may be able to interpret Leo’s unique dream
satisfactorily. I don’t profess to be a revealer of
dreams, but I will give Miss Leo my idea of the
significance of her vision. Perhaps it was not sym
bolical (as most dreams are) or at least the first
part of the dream was not symbolical, but prophetic,
foretelling the loss of a friend —a woman. Few
dreams that signify anything have reference to the
past; most of them predict coming events. Os this
kind are the dreams spoken of in the Bible, among
them the dreams interpreted by Joseph and the
dream that saved the infant Jesus from the cruelty
of Herod. I think it probable that Leo’s dream fore
shadowed the death of a friend, whose funeral she
will attend. The female figure she saw In her
dream may be the spirit or guardian angel that will
convey the departed friend to the unseen world. The
word “remission.” afterwards transformed to “mis
sion,” told that the friend’s sins were forgiven and
her earthlv mission ended. The other shadowy, dim
ly outlined figure might have signified the evil spirit
that had sought to possess the soul of the friend, but
had been overcome. The second part of the dream
—the appearance of the maiestic figure among the
clouds —seems to prophesy the second coming of
Christ, which many believe to be near at hand. You
remember he will be seen coming forth from the
clouds with great glory, among attendant angels.
I would like to relate a dream of my own that
was full of dread and horror. I seemed to have set
out in my buggy on a long trip through a wild forest
country, uninhabited and sunnosed to be infested
with robbers. A friend asked: “Do you know that
you are about to pass through a dangerous land?”
I answered. “Yes, but I am well armed.” then I went
on alone, and came to a dense swamp. While passing
through it. a man sprang out of the woods and caught
the bridle of my horse. As he was on the point of at
tacking me, I shot him with my revolver, and drove
on. Again I was attacked by a would-be murderer
and I defended myself successfully as before, and
proceeded on my perilous journey. Finally, three
men sprang out of the woods and two of them at
tempted to shoot me, while one held my horse. Their
weapons—a gun and a pistol—failed to fire, and seiz
ing the opportunity, I shot them both. The third man
loosed his hold on the bridle and jumped upon me.
We had a hand to hand struggle in which I received
a stunning blow from the butt of his pistol, but re
covering. I succeeded in getting out my knife and
dealing him a fatal wound. Then, I awoke, shiver
ing with excitement and feeling the mental and physi
cal strain of one who had gone through a real and
terrible conflict. An acquaintance said the dream
signified that I would encounter trials, troubles, and
enmity in my journey of life, but would overcome
them all. I can vividly recall the horror I felt in
my dream at having taken the lives of five men.
I hope I shall have no other similar terrible vision.
Ivy, Ala. B. R. IVY.
TWO KINDS OF GIRLS.
I live among the hills of the Appalachian range,
where the scenery is magnificent. Sometime I may
describe some of the bluffs which are in sight of
my home.
I agree with Ben Ivy about girls staying at home,
for it is true there is no place so safe and sweet
But when we are forced to enter the business world
let us do this in a sensible, dignified way, and not
with a frivolous idea of mixing business with hav
ing a good time. Instead of spending all we make on
dress let us resolve to lay up something for rainy
days. There is where many girls make a mistake,
they spend all their earnings on fine clothes and
tickets for the theatre and other places of amuse
ment, so that after years of hard work with their
