171

date: 1920-04-15

names-on-the-page: Mrs. Busby

transcription: April 15, 1920 - Page 4

Then she said:

"This be not the singing, nay, I yet shall for to put
the singin', for I be caught in the cup of morning
ere the sun hath come forth and fell the wine of labor
spurting!"

And she proceeded to give this:

-The South-

Beloved land! flung wide beneath
A golden canopy; beneath God's benediction
It doth seem thou dost lie!
Within thy labors there is nothing
Nothing of sweet, nothing, nothing
Of agony; for all of labor
Is drawn within a cup of song!

Beloved land! flung wide beneath a golden
Canopy, receptacle of God's gifts!
Lo, it seems that He in an idle instant
Created thee as a whimsey, mayhap,
And, well pleased, sat, letting fall
From His fingertips, blooms upon thee!

She evidently knew that she still was not fully complying with
Mrs. Busby's request, for she said:

"This be o' thy land, not o' the spot ayet."

She followed with this understanding poem:

-A Southern Plantation-

Purse of Earth, wherein the golden pence lie!
Rich, rich the store! For intermingled
With the labor of the day
Is the Ever-spring of youth aloosed!
Yea, the morning is the beacon
For the singing and the singing
Is the beacon of the labor.
Thereby is the labor of the growing like
Unto the labor of heaven,
For it goeth upon the feet of playing
To the task of labor.

This then is a fitting purse
For the Earth; for the pence
Therein are coined of labor
And alloyed of love. Aye, and I say me
This is the thing that maketh the land
Rich, for the pence is coined
Of labor and singing.

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