Madam Hickory
by
Wilbur Larremore (1860-1931) |
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FIT theme for song, the sylvan maid
Who, if she knew
not fauns or satyrs,
Had conjured oft in mossy shade
Visions of savage pale-face haters;
I trow she dined on
pork and maize
In cabin, single-roomed and sooted,
Quite innocent of frills and stays,
Warm-hearted and
bare-footed.
Her beauty surely brought her note,�
Its praises fed her soul like manna;
Gossip o'er furtive
tales did gloat,
Sacred to Venus not Diana;
But when
the valiant lover came
He crushed the scandal pests like
vermin;
A terror hedged the hero's name
And she was
white as ermine.
Thenceforth, a matron fair and fat,
She shared the doting warrior's station.
Thais with
Alexander sat
And heard the plaudits of a nation;
Though envious souls with poisoned leer
Offset her new
life by the other,
The hero held her yet more dear,
Stainless as Mary Mother.
Weary of fortune's smile
and frown
She died without the White House portal,
But
never wife wore richer crown,
A sacred troth and love
immortal:
That love had made a queen of her
Whom
haughty dames turned prudish backs on,
And History smiles
but has no slur
For Mistress Andrew Jackson. |
By Wilbur Larremore (1860-1931)
Listed January 8, 2013 |
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