The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1899-08-18

their genius in these pathetic bal
lads OF folklore and songs of sen
timent, which now bring to mind
the vanished days of mirth and
sorrow. Among such poets no
name is honored more than that
of Stephen Collins Foster. To
him we are indebted for "My
Old Kentucky Home" This ia y
nous old song, like most of his
compositions written after his
mother died, is tinged with mel
ancholy. He was not born in the
Blue Grass State, but came of
Southern ancestry, and was III
perfect touch with plantation life.
Foster also wrote that sad bit
of melody so well adapted to the
natural pathos of the negro voice
=" MaSSa'S in the Cold Ground"
"OId Folks at Home," etc, but
the "Old Kentucky Home" is,
perhaps, the most popular of his
compositions because it appeals
to every heart that cherishes
memories of the far away old
Southern plantation home of his
boyhood, and to the author the
writing of it must have been a
labor of love inspired by not only
the memories of his own boyhood
passed with the beloved parents
in the dear old home, but also by
the exquisite beauty of the scene
upon which his eye rested as he
wrote it.
The place where he wrote "My
Old Kentucky Homen was known
as Federal Hill, and was the resi-
dence of the Rowan family for
nearly a century. 1t was six or
seven years before his death that
Foster, who was then not in good
health, came aud paid a visit to
the kowanS at the earnest solici.
tation of the family, and his sister
Eliza accompanied him. This
was away back in the fifties.
That extended visit was rem.
dered beautiful to the celebrated
composer by the world famed and
proverbial graceful hospital
ity of one of the best families of
the high, bred South, and it made
deep impression on him at the
time, as it recalled the sweet
Southern home of his own boy
hood to his mind, then rendered
especially impreSsiOnable by i'll
health.
As his pen gave expression to
the inspiration that gave birth TO
the words of the song. his genius
welded to them the melody that
was most fitting to the theme.
1t is not difficult to believe
that his inspiration was the par
tial result of beautiful and luXur.
iouS surroundings, the golden
sunshine of perfect dawns, the
moonlight falling dreamily upon
the waVering grain and ripeniug
corn, the idylic hush of perfect
days resting upon "Federal
Ill.," broken only by the happy
songs of the darkies lazily per
forming their duties, or lolling in
ndolent ease around the cabins,
and the mellow song of the
thrush that sang in the morning.
The days are now past where
i'll the old Kentucky home twas
summer. and the darkies all were
gay-when the top was ripe
and the meadow in the bloom.
and the birds making music all
the day, but wherever there is a
son or daughter of the sunny
South the heart will thrill with
sad regret at the sound of
the old plantation melodies, and
the tears will spring at the mem
cries of the days that were, but
that have passed "like a shadow
DER the heart"
Following fast on, "My Old
Kentucky Home" comes the sad
strain of cold Folks at Home, y
and we give it in the negro dia,
lect:
OLD FOLKS AT HOME.
Way down upon the Swanee river,
| Far, far away,
/ Dere's whar my heart is turning ebber,
! Dere's whar the old folks stay.
| All up and down the old creation,
Sadly | roam,
Still longing for the old plantation,
And for the old folks at home.
CHORUS.
All de world am sad and dreary,
E"ery wuar roam,
| Oh! d .rkeys how my heart grows weary
Far from the old folks at home.
All round de little farm l wandered,
When | vas young,
Den many happy days | squandered,
Many de songs | sung.
When | was paying with brudder,
Happy was
On. take me to my kind old mudder,
Dere let me live aud die.-Chorus.
A short time ago while wan
dering over the scenes of boyhood
days and viewing places where
years ago were passed some of the
most pleasant hours of our life,
the following lines of distin
guiShed poet flashed through our