Edward Smyth Jones

“ That reareth his throne in temple of the heart;
And smiteth chords of passion full and strong
Till music sweet allures the sorrowing throng!
Then by the gentle curving of his bow
Maketh every mellow note in cadence flow,
To recompense the world of all its wrong.
Although the earth is full of cares and throes
That tempt the crimson stream of life to cloy,
Thou mak'st glad hearts and trip'st "fantastic toes,"
And fillest weary souls with mirth and joy—
The soul-entrancing cadence of thy strings
Proclaims thee Song's unconquered "King of kings"! ”

“ To sing the song which deepest burns
Behind the prison bars!
Thus I resign myself to Fate,
Regardless of her scars;
For soon she'll open wide the gate
For me behind the bars.
I plead to you, my fellow man,
For all who wear the tars;
To lend what little help you can
To us behind the bars.
O God, I breathe my prayer to Thee,
Who never sinner bars:
Set each immortal spirit free
Behind these prison bars!
[Pg 086] HARVARD SQUARE
'Tis once in life our dreams come true,
The myths of long ago,
Quite real though fairy-like their view,
They surge with ebb and flow ”

“ All hope vanished; joy faded; and gloom hovered over me—a feeling I never before had, nor since, and I hope never again to have, electrified my body. It was then raining at full headway: the lightnings flashed; the thunders pealed out peal after peal, each succeeding one louder than the first. ”

“ All the woodland songsters pouring songs of gladness from their throats—
But not one has touched so deeply, and not one has last so long
As the ever ringing cadence of sweet Lula Johnson's song!
[Pg 054]
When the breeze has ceased to whisper and the night is soft and still,
Save the awe-provoking shrilling of the ghastly whippoorwill,
As the moonbeams pour down brightly on the woodland, hill and dale,
I oft listen at my window to the queenly nightingale ”

“ To know that a man was sent to jail as the consequence of a passionate desire to go to college, and that that desire involved the tramping of dusty and hungry miles, adds to the interest to the man that cannot fail in some significant way to set a glamor upon the poet. Poetry is made out of experience—the experience of dreams, of action, of desires and hopes baffled on the inexplicable sea of circumstance ”

“ Then pen of arrogant, vain Caucasian sage,
Has thee full robbed of thy immortal glory,
And smeared thy name on History's sacred page!
Forsooth, the Book, once closed for many an age,
Is opened by thy sons—though fraught with pain—
The curtain's drawn; they rise upon the stage ”

“ Shouts on his voyage with Black and Baltimore:
"We come! we come! good Dame, thy region to explore!"
[Pg 069]
XIV
"I, too," said 'Monia Lewis, "can make a man!"
Then mould' his form with most artistic ease—
But all aeolian strains Blind Tom could scan,
And play as softly as the South Sea breeze
Upon his major and his minor keys!
Good Douglas gently wakes the violin's song,
And White leads home the zephyrs from the seas;
While Coleridge-Taylor with an art more strong
Full finds the key-note of Dame Nature's vesper song! ”

“ Jones' it is that which gives them a unique value because they are in a deeply essential manner the rendering of a human document, as all poems must be, of an individual who speaks universally. I emphasize this quality first because art registers its worth by the vitality of its substance. If the substance be vital, then its embodiment is artistically successful to the degree in which the maker has felt his experiences. These poems, then, will come to many readers with a freshness, with the appeal for a certain sympathy that will compel attention. ”

“ Jones' future if circumstances permit him to cultivate an art for which nature has so obviously endowed him. "The Sylvan Cabin" in spirit may be said to characterize the author's book; that upward striving toward the ideal, which taking a personal expression in his own experience, in his own hopes, has also a larger significance in voicing the aspirations of those for whom, as is shown in many other poems, he becomes a voice, a representative.
Mr. Jones' work has already won for him the approbation of many literary people, his poems having appeared from time to time in various publications ”

“ While my body's lying silent and my soul is seeking rest—
Then I'll wing straight home to glory, for the journey won't be long,
On the spirit-wafting music of sweet Lula Johnson's song!
[Pg 057] A TRIBUTE TO DUNBAR
The sweetest singer once thou wast, but art no more ”

“ And Aguinaldo, in the mountain wilds,
Pours shot and shell into the tyrants' backs—
They save her throne and Freedom on them smiles,
True heroes, and the Fathers of their sunlit Isles!
[Pg 068]
XII
Thy sons have triumphed in the Halls of State ”

“ Brain's full of joy, his heart is at ease—
See, that's the use!
[Pg 076] O GOD, WILT THOU HELP ME IN SCHOOL?
On Saturday, March 1, 1902, I left Alcorn and went home in order to earn money enough to defray my expenses for the year 1902-03. I began work as soon as I reached home and labored on father's farm until the last week in June, 1902. I had seen by that time that there was nothing to be realized from that source but disheartening failure.
I then acted as agent for the "Zion Record," published by Rev. R. A. Adams, 39 St. Catherine Street, Natchez, Miss., until August 20, 1902. ”

“ While out Death my life is burning,
I'm still floating with the gale!
CHORUS
[Pg 053] LULA JOHNSON'S SONG
Written in Quinn Chapel, A. M. E. Church, Ninth and Walnut Streets, Louisville, Ky., Wednesday evening, October 16th, 1907, while Miss Lula E. Johnson was singing "Ave Maria."
I have heard the mock-bird singing when the orchards were in bloom,
And the sweetness of his music made the peacock don his plume ”