Coleman, Thaddeus Charles Land of the Sky George W ashington Flowers Memorial Collection DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ESTABLISHED BY THE FAMILY OF COLONEL FLOWERS Digitized 1 by the Internet : Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/landofsky01cole lUE LAND OF THE SKY. AN IDYL INSCRIBED RESPECTFULLY — to — CHRISTIAN REID BY— — Wl N STAN LEY The Land of the Sky. AN IDYL. INSCRIBED RESPECTFULLY CHRISTIAN REID — BY- WIN STAN LEY. y2A jj) H, minstrel fair, if prestige of thy name J The waves did never bear to foreign shore, * z Thou hast thy meed, too oft denied to Fame !— Thy people's love — what could thy heart ask &WWW^ more ? And home in land where erst the Muses taught Thy hand its skill, did so thy theme inspire, That to thy shrine our willing hearts have brought Their incense offerings for its Vestal fire ! Oh Minstrel, lend thy touch to my frail harp, That fain to land we love would breathe a lay ; Thy hazel wand beside the rock's rude scarp Shall cause some feet to linger by the way, Wherein my heart has wandered all the day. 1 Land of the Sky, on whose fair breast I lie With heart resigned, And gaze upon thy face, to me so full of grace As to the child his mother's ; When to his upturned eyes, filling with glad surprise, Her arms about him twined: Ever new charms appear, revealed through smile or tear Unseen by others : Thy heights where centuries have slept, and woke To find their brow unchanged by marring stroke Of times rude pen ; Let me their panoply of strength invoke, From fir-crowned crest to sheltered glen, For thoughts, for deeds of high emprise ; that I may keep My soul apart, as springs of water in thy valleys deep — Drawn from high source their bright perennial flow — That when misfortunes bitter waves may break Resistless o'er me, still my heart may know — As they beneath the torrents turbid flow — When storm clouds burst and hills and valleys quake, Its source of Joy secure, its trust that nought can shake f I 5 Land where the summer waits, In long expectancy the fateful gleam Of Autumn's banners o'er her broad estates, And waiting, sleeps to dream ! Dream of continued days, Of empire changeless in its emerald dye Of heraldry — dream in the mellow haze, Under the cloudless sky ! Dream while the elfin hands, By night, her thin shroud weave ; so frail, so fair, Her warm breath meeting melts its fragile bands In morning's joyous air ! Sleeping until at last, Through her thin robe she feels the chilling breath And touch relentless of November's blast, Premonitor of death ! Then on lone eminence the while she lingers, Where firs and ferns still hold allegiance true ; Her finished shroud falls from the elfin fingers, Her startled eyes rest on the wondrous view. 6 Gone from the mountains all the halcyon glory, The chestnuts bloom, the poplar blossoms lent ; Silent the sorrel's bells, unheard the story Their murmuring bees prolonged till day was spent. Silent upon the hills the gray doves cooing, AU the sweet songsters from the fields have fled, Gone the white tents that hid their home ren awing The valleys in their happy welcome spread. Gone with the dream, but still that dream recalling, In pristine form the hills, the mountains rise, A breath of June that lifts the thin mist falling Fans the wan cheek and wakes the drooping eyes. To see the realm she nursed and deemed had perished, Crowned with a glory it had never known, Had Autumn's hand not crushed the hope she cherished And death proclaimed her abdicated throne. The closing eyes turn where the sun descending Floods with soft light the far untrammeled view — A sea transfixed, its magic colors blending, Its faintest outline lost in fainter blue- 7 Mountains and hills and vales ! What foreign shore Hath half thy wealth of beauty— Nature's dower ! Above what clouds like thine do eagles soar That are not fettered by the ice-king's power ! Not thine the relentless frost, the glaciers home ; The avalanche, the desolation wide ! Thou hast no paths thy lovers may not roam, No glen so bleak where 'Summer may not bide' ! In contrast lo, the long defiant line,* Clad still in armor of the days of yore, Where battle wrecks thick strewn betray the sign f Of long-waged conflict now forever o'er ! Still gazing west-ward toward the receding shore Whose baffled waves, abandoning the strife, From the worn elements with ages hoar Made new creations redolent with life : * The Pacific Coast Range, t Geologic. 8 And in Pacific seas of other climes Raised peaceful monuments to warlike times. For baffled waves, the islands in the sea Fit trophies of disputed victory ! Oh barren mountains ! Not unlike your fate Had been the fortune of our native land, When war's arbitrament laid low her State And Might had bound her unresisting hand : If wrapped like ye in sullen robes of pride, Nursing old memories of a bitter wrong, In attitude again to battle bide That safer lives in history and in song — But as her plains in Time's remoted Past From Ocean depths in Earth's convulsive throe Rose to these heights all verdure crowned at last So to their heights, from vallies black with woe. Her sons — their broken swords and shivered spears Laid down and buried, came by ways untried ; Wresting from dire defeat, through peaceful years, Achievement Fate had to their Arms denied. 9 Could land whose thousand streams, at urgent plea Of coast beleaguered by devouring wave ; In battle joined drove back the invading sea, And built her cordon barricade so brave.* As still defies the rude Atlantic's swell ; And with untiring zeal restored the spoil Of inland forays, 'till each plain and dell Are lasting monuments of patient toil — Could such a land, for war, for peaceful art, Give birth to sons unworthy, daughters weak ! Our lips are silent ; Fame's historic chart To distant times their deeds enrolled shall speak — Time may run back and bring our childhood's lore Rich with its tales of wealth in boundless store, Alladdin's lamp revealed in days of yore ; But Mother mine, no other pearls outshine Those thou dost wear, twined in thy radiant hair ! No flashing gem, no diadem *The out-lying islands of the North Carolina coast. 10 Of empress crowned, no virgin zone unbound, No treasures rare the Ocean caves may bear Can rival thine. Nor hast thou hid them from the longing gaze As in those olden times by devious ways, Enchanter's wand, and Cabalistic art The doors unfolded to the enquiring heart. Not thine a doubtful form, a spirit fell ; To rise, to stand, to sink at wizzard's spell ; Enthroned a queen, the smile of peasant maid Speaks in thine eyes serene, loves light, loves shade. Wild flowers in simple wreath thy locks withhold, Simple the tunic o'er thy heart of gold ; Thy face unveiled, its vision free to all, The ungloved hand restrains the drapery's fall That still would leave thy sandalled feet unseen, But should we seek thee in the copse- wood green, On the brown heath or in the silver sheen Of upland forest when the south winds blow, On silent peaks of rest beneath the snow, In tangled wood where whip-poor-will's lone cry Vexes the ear of night till dawn is nigh ; 11 In fields, in orchards, where the laggard morn Wakes to compelling sound of Hunter's horn, And fox belated, through the tell tale dew- Seeks his vain covert from the opening view : When low the small birds pipe the rising day And high the robin chants his roundelay, Where eager angler vies with glancing beam The first to reach the banks of favorite stream, And swift imagination onward flies To mark where unsuspecting quarry lies ; To see the gaudy bate quick disappear— The reel's sharp twanging note delight to hear, The short, mad conflict o'er, to mark the prize, Break the smooth wave and through the still air rise, Only an instant later to descend Where captor's hand decides his fated end ; And while his fruitless struggles feebler grow— His gold and purple markings fainter glow- - A tawdry shroud his dying effort weaves Of withered moss and yellow beechen leaves : But not a linger on the noontide rest — The simple fare with hunger for its zest : 12 The pipe, the book, perhaps an hour of sleep- Then where the shallows brawl, the eddies creep, The rapid sport resumed till evening's shades Warn to the homeward path through narrow glades, Till wider stand the enclosing hills apart With here and there some sign of rustic art, And smoother still the widening waters flow, And slackened speed the sportsman's footsteps show, Till brightly shines from out the sheltered bend The welcome light where all his labors end : Where through the meadow streamlets glide along And boding owl forbids the vesper song, The robin sings far in the twilight hour To brown mate nestled in the hedgerow bower — In ivery place this wandering verse hath named A living voice, thy presence hath proclaimed, Or where no voice revealed thy presence sought Thy jeweled buskins imprint had been wrought. Mine are thy heights where lonely lichens brave The north wind's breath when all his bugles blare, And moss green rocks where rhododendrons wave Their crimson colors in the sunlit air. 13 And mine the dells where pale arbutus steals To whisper vows within the violet's ear, While nodding fern the try sting place conceals, And lest the listening sylvan throng should hear. Louder his laughter as the brook hies on, The red bird's call, the thrush's note more clear, Bolder the wren proclaims the winter gone, The blue bird plainly utters " Spring is here." Thy morning mists, the fleecy clouds at noon That listless brood upon a summer's day, The evening shades, the gloaming that too soon The sombre wings of night shall chase away ; The vesper songs of birds, the breath of flowers — The leaves, the grass, with countless jewels bright — The stars that mark the weary march of hours — All these of thine are mine by filial right. The winds that sob and sigh and sink to sleep, And wake to moan, like heart that pines for rest — Sleeping to dream of hope and wake to weep, Have proved companionship through years unblest. 14 I loved the ocean once. There was a time Its voice of waves from far in measures fell As welcome on mine ear as vesper chime To maiden waiting for the solemn bell, Telling the hour and place of fond retreat, All undisturbed to quaff love's ruby wine ; Heaven's stars above, earth's billows at the feet- Fit types of passion, human and divine. Her's were the stars too high for me to reach, Too oft obscured by doubt's remorseless reign ; The waters mine, that flung upon the beach Their restless energies all spent in vain With tireless step beside the tireless wave That lit our path with phosphorescent light, And sought, and sought again our feet to lave, Or try our courage with its threatening height— The wave unheeding, on the beaten strand, The way unnoted, guided but by chance. How oft we wandered silent, hand in hand, Lost in the maze's of love's mystic trance. 15 How like a dream those days of long ago, How faint, how far the vision lies! How like the ocean's ebb, how like its flow — Thought's tides that hastening come, that lingering go- How like the summer skies That morning gilds with rays of radiant light The winds at rest, That noon obscures with clouds in hurried flight— Their squadrons lingering on the verge of night Till in the ruddy West Another host, borne on some counter gale — In silent swift array, Rider and horse all clad in burnished mail, Scaling the mountains, filling every vale, — The allied fleet close in with crowded sail — Holds the contested day. How like the spring-time's sweetest, frailest flower The sultry summer seeks to find in vain, Is youth's first love, 'though lost within an hour, To manhood's longing search comes not again. Where is she now— the maid of thoughtful mein ? And he — the friend who sometime shared those hours ! 16 Oh dim Elysian Isles, what seas between Those barren sands and your once blooming bowers ! That hope depicted while fond love believed, Despite war's ominous cloud that swiftly sped ; Despite prophetic doom of land bereaved And sorrow's tears o'er valor's bright wine shed ! Are still the returning waves that bay caressing Whose fondling arms then took them to its breast, To love that chided not their errant quest ? Blow yet the winds whence fancy then descried The bay and myrtle overhang their shore, To lovers waiting in the evening tide To catch the mystic messages they bore. Falls yet the light from out the western skies In tranquil glory on the land and sea ! Lingers the light yet in her constant eyes— The starlight of my young heart's destiny ! 17 Fadeless on memory's sight that placid glow Quenchless the light within those eyes serene, But phantom wings, and not the winds that blow, Convey their messages from land unseen. To those same sandd whereby the sea gulls sweep On tireless wings above the tireless waves, The stars, the same, their constant vigil keep, But beaten strand I tread lies low mid graves. Yet thou, oh fairest land ! far from each scene Whereon Time folds in vain the veil of years, With thee the heart's waste fields again grow green, And life's sad chalice is sublimed of tears. The sounding waves sweep on, with passion white ; Destruction waiting where their vallies seethe ; Thy silent summits stand in azure light Guarding the sheltered vales that sleep beneath. Laurels we wreathe and flowers of fadeless bloom For fortune's favorites, but when evil hour Crawls to the bidding of the stroke of doom, Our fickle souls take refuge in the tower 1-8 Of pale expediency, and quick make room For specious doubt, to tear our gifts away : Thou crownest thine in sunlight and in gloom ; The laurel on their brow knows no decay ! Science and art and wealth in concert vie To raise the temple and adorn the shrine, But blend such forms before the wandering eye As blinds its vision to the light divine ! Upon thy heights — His footstool — we may kneel, All human sights and sounds below our feet, Nor one distracting qualm the bosom feel To break the spell, accomplished and complete Of cloud-girt stillness, rocks to earth all prone, The aspiring firs, in awe-struck attitude, While from the far off depths, in pauses blown, Rise the low symphony and interlude Of falling waters and of rocking pines ; And over all, the faultless arch is thrown Whence rise the stars to where the sun declines — Fain for the heart's high homage — silent— lone ! Peace hangs her ensign where war's ruthless hand His flaunting flag and torch avenging bore, (—Through the dim vistas, Time ! uplift thy hand And voice in prayer that he return no more— ) The spreading light that on the horizon glows Is but the herald of the sun's advance, The embattled height no haughty banner shows The plum ed knights salute with peaceful lance. Yon darkling march along the mountain side— The east wind's swoop upon the sable firs ; The wreathing smoke upon the distant tide- But mist on fields of corn the west wind stirs. The quick'ning beat from hills and vales around, Like answering echoes of the startled drum, Is but the rustic flail's familiar sound Of bloodless victory oe'r the harvest home. Along the valley at this hour of noon, f .j The calm that broods is not the spell of dread, When hearts beat low, and hearts beat high that soon May cease their beating, numbered with the dead. That sullen peal no clash of arms fortells, 'Tis but the signal of the lightning's play — Not that a martial strain that faintly swells The drowsy air in glens where far away The bells' melodious tongues in music friend ; And milkmaid's call floats on the evening breeze, While lengthening shadows from the hills descend Till night shab set her stars upon the frieze Above the low horizon's fading glow, Where late the entablature of golden bands With purple fringe above and flame below, Upheld the mysterious arch " *fbt made with hands " — Then rest we here ; the day draws to its close, The cottage there beyond the limpid stream Half hid in vines, invites to calm repose ; And if to broken sleep comes vexing dream Oi sounds confused — of straggling lines of light— 'Tis but the brook complaining in it's flow — 'Tis but the autumnal fires that mimic show Of weary ranks at rest from march or fight, 21 Holding their bivouac only for to-night — Ranks that the falling mist will hide from sight- Corps and batailions that we once did know- Phantoms of forms that vanished years ago. * * * * Ah minstrel, all in vain thy touch, On harps whose strings the winds alone, From fields forgotten, move for such As love hath tried and grief hath known ! But if perchance its numf^rs swell A chord in heart that sad recalls Some twilight hour whose 'witching spell The song birds sang in madrigals — And if my song might lure to leave Some beaten strand beside the sea, — Some spot where lone heart loves to grieve — To know these heights as known by me ; 22 Then not in vain my idle lay, Though all unlike the simple tale That hither drew from far away, To mountain height— to mountain vale, Full many a one whose soul— whose eye, Might feast on Land so Near the Sky. FURMAN'S PRINT, ASHEVILl.E, N. C.