Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LENARE: A STORY OF THE SOUTHERN REVOLUTION: 1. THE MAGIC GLASS, by MARY HUNT MCCALEB ODOM


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LENARE: A STORY OF THE SOUTHERN REVOLUTION: 1. THE MAGIC GLASS, by                    
First Line: Twas fair and bright the first of may
Last Line: When fate shall weave thy destiny.
Subject(s): American Civil War; Confederate States Of America; Death; Love; Plays & Playwrights; U.s. - History; Women; Confederacy; Dead, The


'Twas fair and bright the first of May,
God never formed a lovelier day;
The birds, the joyous morn to greet,
Sent forth a chorus, wild and sweet.
The zephyrs played with leaf and blade,
The sparkling dew begemmed the glade;
E'en Nature's self looked on the scene,
With smiling lip, and brow serene.
Deep in this lovely, magic dell,
'Tis whispered gentle fairies dwell.
Hard by a fountain, clear and sweet,
Is said to be their Queen's retreat,
Where love-lorn lads and lassies go,
To read their future weal or woe.
'Tis but to hold a mirror bright,
So it reflects the beaming light
That falls upon the waters clear,
That flow in gentle murmurs near,
The future will before thee pass,
Reflected clearly in the glass.
This bright and smiling morn in May,
A maiden takes her lonely way,
To read, in fairy's magic glade,
The future's dark, uncertain shade.
Her form was graceful as gazelle,
Her hair in jetty ringlets fell;
Her eye, large, dark, and full of fire,
Could melt in love, or flash with ire;
Both changing cheek and kindling eye
Betrayed her birth 'neath Southern sky.
'Twas in the time when Northmen came
To subjugate, degrade, and shame
The land of freedom and of right,
And make them bow to wrong and might.
The maiden's heart swelled proud and free
Beneath the skies of Liberty.
The blood that bounded in each vein
Flowed free from every Northern stain,
And backward, for a century,
She counted Southern ancestry.
The magic glass she raises now --
Tosses the bright curls from her brow,
Then turns, with eager gaze, to look
Into the future's mystic book.
Ha! maiden, what is written there
To blanch a brow already fair?
Why glares thine eye upon the sight?
Why turns thy crimson cheek to white?
Ah! seest thou not a lover brave,
As ever heart to maiden gave?
Then why this start of wild surprise?
Why flashes fire from thine eyes?
Ah! look within the glass so fair,
And view the picture mirrored there.
There mounted on a noble steed,
That well might serve his master's need,
A soldier, young in looks and years,
Within the fairy glass appears.
His forehead was both high and fair,
And curling flaxen was his hair;
His eye, a deep and restless blue,
Told of a spirit brave and true.
But ah! that spirit, bold and free,
Now wears a tyrant's livery.
His garb is not of greyish hue,
He wears the hated Northern blue.
Ah! maiden, dash beneath thy feet
The glass that marred thy visions sweet,
Then wring thy hands in wild despair,
And breathe to heaven a fervent prayer;
Of small avail 'twill be to thee,
When fate shall weave thy destiny.





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