ECHOES OF CHILDHOOD
(A Folk-Medley)
Uncle Jim
Old Uncle Jim was as blind as a mole,
But he could fiddle Virginia Reels,
Till you felt the sap run out of your heels,
Till you knew the devil had got your soul—
Down the middle and swing yo’ partners,
Up agin and salute her low,
Shake yo’ foot an’ keep a-goin’,
Down the middle an’ do-se-do!
Mind yo’ manners an’ doan git keerless,
Swing yo’ lady and bow full low,
S’lute yo’ partner an’ turn yo’ neighbor,
Gran’-right-an’-left, and aroun’ you go!
* * *
Delphy
Delphy’s breast was wide and deep,
A shelf to lay a child asleep,
Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low;
Rocking like a lifted boat
On lazy tropic seas afloat,
Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low.
Delphy, when my mother died,
Taught me wisdom, curbed my pride,
Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low;
And when she laid her body down,
It shone, a jewel, in His crown,
Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low.
* * *
(Underneath the southern moon
I was cradled to the tune
Of the banjo and the fiddle
And the plaintive negro croon.)
Mandy’s
Religion
I’se got religion an’ I doan care
Who knows that God an’ I are square,
I wuz carryin’ home my mistis’ wash
When God came an’ spoke to me out’n de hush.
An’ I th’ew de wash up inter de air,
An’ I climbed a tree to de golden stair,
Ef it hadn’t a been fur Mistah Wright
I’d had ter stayed dere all de night!
* * *
(Underneath the southern moon
I was cradled to the tune
Of the banjo and the fiddle
And the plaintive negro croon.)
Betsy’s Boy
Betsy’s boy could shuffle and clog,
Though you couldn’t get him to saw a log,
Laziest boy about the place
Till he started to dance—and you saw his face!
It was all lit up like a mask of bronze
Set in a niche between temple gongs—
For he would dance and never stop
Till he fell on the floor like a spun-out top.
His feet hung loose from his supple waist,
He danced without stopping, he danced without haste.
Like Shiva the Hindu his feet were bound
In the rhythm of stars and of streams underground:
Banjo playin’ and de sanded floor,
Fiddle cryin’, always callin’ more,
Can’t help dancin’ though de preacher says
Can’t git to heaven doin’ no sich ways,
Can’t help dancin’ though de devil stan’s
With a pitch-fork waitin’ in his brimstone han’s;
Got—ter—keep—dancin’,—can’t—stop—now,
Got—ter—keep—dancin’, I—doan—know—how ...
Banjo playin’ and de sanded floor,
Fiddle cryin’, always callin’ more,
People’s faces lookin’ scared an’ white,
Hands a clappin’ an’ eyes starin’ bright.
Can’t help dancin’ though de candle’s dyin’,
Can’t help dancin’ while de fiddle’s cryin’;
Got—ter—keep—dancin’, can’t—stop—now,
Got—ter—keep—dancin’,—I—doan—know—how!
Lola Ridge
Lola Ridge was born in Dublin, Ireland, leaving there in infancy and spending her childhood in Sydney, Australia. After living some years in New Zealand, she returned to Australia to study art. In 1907, she came to the United States, supporting herself for three years by writing fiction for the popular magazines. She stopped this work only, as she says, “because I found I would have to do so if I wished to survive as an artist.” For several years she earned her living in a variety of ways—as organizer for an educational movement, as advertisement writer, as illustrator, artist’s model, factory-worker, etc. In 1918, The New Republic published her long poem The Ghetto and Miss Ridge, until then totally unknown, became the “discovery” of the year.
Her volume The Ghetto and Other Poems (1918) contains one poem that is brilliant, several that are powerful and none that is mediocre. Her title-poem is its pinnacle; in it Miss Ridge touches strange heights. It is essentially a poem of the city, of its sodden brutalities, its sudden beauties. Swift figures shine from these lines, like barbaric colors leaping out of darkness; images that are surprising but never strained glow with a condensed clarity. In her other poems—especially in “The Song of Iron,” “Faces” and “Frank Little at Calvary”—the same dignity is maintained, though with less magic.
Sun-Up (1920) is less integrated, more frankly experimental. But the same vibrancy and restrained power that distinguished her preceding book are manifest here. Her delineations are sensitive and subtle; she accomplishes the maximum in effects with a minimum of effort.