[Representing Nothing On God's Earth Now]
Dublin Core
Title
[Representing Nothing On God's Earth Now]
Subject
Civil War
Creator
F. C. W.
Source
http://addison.vt.edu/record=b1775388~S1
Publisher
Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University
Date
April 1877
Contributor
Josh Dobbs, Jenna Zan
Rights
Permission to publish images from The Gray Jacket must be obtained from Special Collections, Virginia Tech.
Format
Text
Language
English
Type
Poem
Identifier
LD5655.V8 L4, ser.1, v.2, no.6 (April 1877), p.7
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
The following beautiful lines were written by a Southern lady, on the back of a Confederate $10 note, and sent to one of Alabama's bravest sons. They breathe the lofty sentiment characteristic of the writer. They will be read and appreciated by all who love the Gray:
Representing nothing on God's earth now,
And naught in the waters below it,
As the pledge of a nation that passed away,
Keep it, dear friend, and show it.
Show it to those who will lend an ear,
To the tale that this trifle can tell,
Of a liberty born, of a patriots dream,
Of a storm-cradled nation that fell.
Too poor to possess the precious ores,
And too much of a stranger to borrow,
We issued to-day, "our promise to pay,"
And hoped to redeem on the morrow,
The days rolled by and weeks became years,
But our coffers were empty still,
Coin so rare that the treasury'd quake,
If a dollar should drop in the till.
But the faith that was in us was strong indeed.
Though our poverty we well disclaimed.
And these little checks represented the pay,
That our suffering veterans earned.
They knew that they had hardly a value in gold,
Yet as gold the soldiers received them,
They gazed in our eyes with the "promise to pay."
And each man in the army believed them.
But our boys thought little indeed of pay,
Or of promises over due,
'They knew if they bought our bread to-day,
It was the best our poor country could do.
Keep them—they tell our history over,
From the birth of our dream, to its last,
Modest and born of an angel's dream,
Like our hope of success they have passed.
Representing nothing on God's earth now,
And naught in the waters below it,
As the pledge of a nation that passed away,
Keep it, dear friend, and show it.
Show it to those who will lend an ear,
To the tale that this trifle can tell,
Of a liberty born, of a patriots dream,
Of a storm-cradled nation that fell.
Too poor to possess the precious ores,
And too much of a stranger to borrow,
We issued to-day, "our promise to pay,"
And hoped to redeem on the morrow,
The days rolled by and weeks became years,
But our coffers were empty still,
Coin so rare that the treasury'd quake,
If a dollar should drop in the till.
But the faith that was in us was strong indeed.
Though our poverty we well disclaimed.
And these little checks represented the pay,
That our suffering veterans earned.
They knew that they had hardly a value in gold,
Yet as gold the soldiers received them,
They gazed in our eyes with the "promise to pay."
And each man in the army believed them.
But our boys thought little indeed of pay,
Or of promises over due,
'They knew if they bought our bread to-day,
It was the best our poor country could do.
Keep them—they tell our history over,
From the birth of our dream, to its last,
Modest and born of an angel's dream,
Like our hope of success they have passed.