ON THE SHORES OF TENNESSEE.
Massa's berry kind to Pompey;
But ole darky's happy here,
Where he's tended corn and cotton
For 'ese many a long-gone year.
Over yonder Missis' sleeping,—
No one tends her grave like me;
Mebbe she would miss the flowers
She used to love in Tennessee.
'Pears like she was watching, Massa—
If Pompey should beside him stay;
Mebbe she'd remember better
How for him she used to pray;
Telling him that way up yonder
White as snow his soul would be,
If he served the Lord of heaven
While he lived in Tennessee."
Silently the tears were rolling
Down the poor old dusky face.
As he stepped behind his master,
In his long-accustomed place.
Then a silence fell around them,
As they gazed on rock and tree
Pictured in the placid waters
Of the rolling Tennessee;
Master, dreaming of the battle
Where he fought by Marion's side,
When he bid the haughty Tarleton
Stoop his lordly crest of pride;
Man, remembering how yon sleeper
Once he held upon his knee,
Ere she loved the gallant soldier,
Ralph Vervair, of Tennessee.
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