Edward Smyth Jones Deep Poems

• 1. Floating With The Gale
  TO MY LOST BROTHER
  
  
  Ships the angry sea is lashing;
  ...
• 2. O God, Wilt Thou Help Me In School?
  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. Knowing that there was a dormitory to be built for girls at Alcorn, I went there, hoping to get work and to be there when school opened. On arriving, I failed to get employment. I had no money. The Boarding Hall was run by boys who stayed over summer. Finding I was unemployed, they refused to let me take meals with them. There I was - friendless and penniless - without a bite of bread and nowhere to lay my head. To drive the wolf of starvation away and to keep from being devoured, I made arrangements with President Lanier to cut wood for something to eat, until school opened Sept. 2, 1902.
  
  When school opened, the Faculty met the first day and distributed the positions to the eligibles. On going down to the Hall to take my first meal, to my surprise I found I had been awarded the position of waiter. To hold a position, or even remain on the Campus, one must matriculate within three days after school starts, if there when it opens, or after he arrives, if not. I then wrote home for the matriculation fee ($13), as I had labored there all summer. As that letter was sealed my destiny was sealed in it. It was one that hauled my anchor of hope; yes, one to bring glad tidings of great joy and crowning success, or the gloom of disastrous failure. Thus, having my hope sealed, I wrote across it "In Haste!"
  
  ...
• 3. 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;
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• 4. A Song Of Thanks
  For the sun that shone at the dawn of spring,
  For the flowers which bloom and the birds that sing,
  For the verdant robe of the gray old earth,
  For her coffers filled with their countless worth,
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• 5. The Sylvan Cabin - A Centenary Ode On The Birth Of Lincoln
  I
  
  O, fairest Dame of sylvan glades,
  We come to pay thee homage due,
  ...

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