Evening capital and Maryland gazette., 1913-03-03
WIcOMICO
Lines TO Dolly BOon' Creek Written
By Mss Eva Dorsey Carr.

Lines 10 Dolly boon Otseh "aAsasH
By Miss Eva Dorsey Carr.
When Ger the sea there came a low
moaning.
And thunder was crashing from
shore 70 shore;
When lightning was flashing and |
wild waves were dashing
To the wild winds lashiug with Val !
kyr--like roar,
! would listen and thrill in strange |
fascination
To TIE voices of spirits that live in
the sea
That rode on the storm and charged
with the lightning
And ragged In the waters that made
music to me.
And watch the sum rising out Of the
sea,
The rosy-tipped waves around my
throat breaking,
And laughed as ! splsshed in radi-
ant glee
Many time I've watched the sun set
ting
Like a great ball Of fire burning
out IN the west
The sky aud the river in colors
seemed melting
/ White the earth blushed in rapture
with che sun on her breast.
How often at night in my little boat
drifting
would float with the tide in the.
path Of the moon
The wind and the waves, so drearily
murmuring
| Would weave me sweet dreams with
their low, silver Groom.
Strange. silver dreams out of fairy
moonbeams,
As listened to voices so sweet and
so wild,
Voices that came from earth and
from heaven
And stirred my heart WHEN little
| child.
Between Charles and St Mary's
counties flows a beautiful little river
the Indians loved and called Wicom-
leo. An artist, poet or a novelist,
in search of local color, need only
spend q summer in the neighb0rhood
of Dolly Boone creek, a secluded,
out-of-the-way spot far from, but not
shut off from the railroad. The
Spring comes soonest and the Winter
later here than anywhere else.
In the silent beauty of its wooded
shores, its crystal creeks, its long,
low, lonely marsht s, teeming with the
life of waterfowl undisturbed by the
gunner, rich with ever-changing
color, from the vivid, virgindI green
Of early Spring to the deep gold and
glowing reds an ! browns of Autumn,
one seems to see with the fancy of
/ Longfellow, the picturesque, painted
| figures Of those Indian braves who
once landed their birch canoes and
pitched their wigwams along the
very shores where now the oystermen
and fishermen build their crude shan
ties, and to hear their spirited voices
in the fain and far-oG whisper that
never quite bushes in the pines and
marshes.
The Wicomico empties into the Po-
tomac; is beaches are low, flat and
sandy, ideal for bathing. and when be
tide is low during the oystering sea-
son. one may walk along the beach
and pick up bushels of oysters. No
situation could be more delightful for
summer resort or a health sanitar-
ium. The negroes and white dwellers
along the shores make their living
by oystering, fishing and grabbing, and
live their ignorant, uneventful lives
in unconsciousnes SIS or indifference TO
the beauty Of their surroundings,
their only recreation being the saloon
across Dolly Boone creek, where they
hold gatherings every Saturday night,
and sometimes give dancing par
ties.
Further inland, nearer the rail-
road, postoffice, schools and churches,
life, of course, was different, al
though the surroundings were not so
beautiful as on the river. Here the
name of Robert Grain, the big politi-
clan and gentleman farmer of Charles
county is honored as a loyal citizen
and man of character, for he has
done much in opening that part of
Charles county for modern improve
ments and making the people realize
its beauty and advantages for the
farmer