The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1898-09-23
7. n. FIGQERS.
"DREAMS AND REALITIES"
Resume of Miss COrpier's Little Volume
OfPOems.

Resume of Miss COrpier's Little Volume
OfPOems.
Editor Herdld:-I have been so
pleased with a little volume of
poems recently issued by gifted
daughter of the Middle Basin,a and,
for much of her time, citizen of
our own county, that am constrain-
ed to beg of you space to say few
words in it's praise. The author is
Miss Lula Belle Corpier, now of
Mooresville, Tennessee, and her
modest volume of poems is entitled
dreams and Realities"
In this little volume there is evil
dence of the highest order of poeti;
cal genius; the vivid imagination,
the nervous energy, the musical
flow in rhythm and words, and,
greatest of all the ability and power
to create, to reach out with mind
and heart and gather from the void
of life the things that should
live. 1t is true this is Miss COrpier's
first book and all of the poems are
not up to the true standard which
many of them have reached. But
of what poet that has ever lived can
not the same be said? Neverthe-
less, about them all one may see the
early unfolding of most pronounce
ed genius, which, If it have time to
ripen, will be fruit worthy of the
state and soil that has been hOnOred
by her life and her living.
There are fifty three of these
poems and / cannot of course, in
this short review mention all of
them. But allow me TO copy a few
which please me most, hoping, as
l do, that your readers will enjoy
them as much as L have. The first
is a poem of such delicate beauty,
imagery, and musical flow, that |
easily rank it with the best that is
now current in high class maya
zines. 1t is entitled
THINE EYES.
Thine eyes first made me love thee, they
alone
First won my heart and made me all
thine own.
NV heart, too tender to be overwise,
Went from me on the love-beams of
thine eyes,
Thine eyes like azule water, lilly
BrOWn'
Thine eyes still make me love thee,
they alone,
Although our hearts and hands have
strangers grown,
All the sweet bliss the tyrant Fate
denies
see within thy tender, smiling eyes.
Thine eyes like woodland bluebells
widely blown.
No more delicately beautiful poem
has occurred in a long time than the
! above.
And here is another which is very
fine indeed. 1t is almost perfect in
its conception and lifts us with the
mellow notes of a sweet sadness.
AN ALBUM VERSE.
They touched this page, those slender
boyish fingers,
They wrote these words one lOng-past
summer day,
And like the echo, faint and sweet, that
fingers
When the last quivering note has died
So there comes stealing DER my heart
tonight
An echo from the olden days delight.
How we'll know the writing, plain an
bold,
A thousand memories cluster round
each line;
l see your dear face, as in days of old,
Your smiling eyes look tenderly int
mine.
1t seems to draw you nearer, very near
When reread the lines you wrote, dear
To memory's banqueting tonight there
came
Ghosts Of the past that never really
slept,
Reused by these words; "May my name
In fond remembrance evermoTe b(
kept"
All me, within my hearts's most tender
spot
Your name is twined with blue forget
me-not.
But memory's feast is yet so bitter
sweet,
We find so many dregs within thu
wine
That we will shrink, and our poor feet
Will falter when we enter there t,
dine;
And yet who would not give up life ant
all
To live again some day beyond recall?
1 close the book, my eyes are dim witt
weeping;
Depart, We ghosts of the dead past VIII,
came;
Leave me once more in silence, keeping
ain fond remembrance" that one love-
name.
They haunt me still-old scenes, oil
joys, old grief,
Recalled by the lines upon this leaf.
| AS pretty aud sad as this poem is