Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/462

O, merry was the quilting bee, When this great quilt was done; The rafters rang with maiden glee, And hearts were lost and won. Ne er did a throng of braver men In war clash hilt to hilt, Than sought the smiles of beauty then Round Aunt Jemima s quilt. This work of art my aunt esteemed The glory of the age; No poet s eyes have ever beamed More proudly o er his page. Were other quilt to this compared, Her nose woujd upward tilt; Such impudence was seldom dared O er Aunt Jemima s quilt. Her dear old hands have gone to dust, That once were lithe and light; Her needles keen are thick with rust, That flashed so nimbly bright. And here it lies by her behest, Stained with the tears we spilt, Safe folded in this cedar chest My Aunt Jemima s quilt.