| |
| “MOVE my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, | |
| In the sunshine bright and strong, | |
| For this world is fading, Pompey,— | |
| Massa won’t be with you long; | |
| And I fain would hear the south-wind | 5 |
| Bring once more the sound to me, | |
| Of the wavelets softly breaking | |
| On the shores of Tennessee. | |
| |
| “Mournful though the ripples murmur, | |
| As they still the story tell, | 10 |
| How no vessels float the banner | |
| That I ’ve loved so long and well. | |
| I shall listen to their music, | |
| Dreaming that again I see | |
| Stars and Stripes on sloop and shallop | 15 |
| Sailing up the Tennessee. | |
| |
| “And, Pompey, while old Massa ’s waiting | |
| For Death’s last despatch to come, | |
| If that exiled, starry banner | |
| Should come proudly sailing home, | 20 |
| You shall greet it, slave no longer;— | |
| Voice and hand shall both be free | |
| That shout and point to Union colors | |
| On the waves of Tennessee.” | |
| |
| “Massa ’s berry kind to Pompey; | 25 |
| But ole darkey ’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; | 30 |
| Mebbie she would miss the flowers | |
| She used to love in Tennessee. | |
| |
| “’Pears like she was watching, Massa— | |
| If Pompey should beside him stay; | |
| Mebbie she ’d remember better | 35 |
| 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.” | 40 |
| |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| Ralph Vervair of Tennessee. | |
| |
| Still the south-wind fondly lingers | |
| Mid the veteran’s silver hair; | |
| Still the bondman close beside him | |
| Stands behind the old arm-chair. | 60 |
| With his dark-hued hand uplifted, | |
| Shading eyes, he bends to see | |
| Where the woodland, boldly jutting, | |
| Turns aside the Tennessee. | |
| |
| Thus he watches cloud-born shadows | 65 |
| Glide from tree to mountain crest, | |
| Softly creeping, aye and ever | |
| To the river’s yielding breast. | |
| Ha! above the foliage yonder | |
| Something flutters wild and free! | 70 |
| “Massa! Massa! Hallelujah! | |
| The flag ’s come back to Tennessee!” | |
| |
| “Pompey, hold me on your shoulder, | |
| Help me stand on foot once more, | |
| That I may salute the colors | 75 |
| As they pass my cabin door; | |
| Here ’s the paper signed that frees you, | |
| Give a freeman’s shout with me,— | |
| ‘God and Union!’ be our watchword | |
| Evermore in Tennessee.” | 80 |
| |
| Then the trembling voice grew fainter, | |
| And the limbs refused to stand; | |
| One prayer to Jesus,—and the soldier | |
| Glided to that better land. | |
| When the flag went down the river | 85 |
| Man and master both were free, | |
| While the ringdove’s note was mingled | |
| With the rippling Tennessee. | |
| |
