SUCCOTASH.
Though many viands Indians prized—
If served to people civilized,
Would cause disdainful smile;
Yet one nice dish of times by-gone,
The succotash, or beans and corn,
When cooked in Indian style,
To some, is thought a greater treat
Than all the choicest joints of meat
An epicure might choose;
Poultry and game may both abound
Where this delicious dish is found,
I would all else refuse.
Give me no fish, nor barbecue;
Pâté-de-fois, and oysters, too,
Salads and sauces rich,
May tempt an epicure to roam,
But I had rather dine at home,
On this, my favorite dish.
In early days, the bell would sound,
Then olive plants would gather round,
As fast as they were able,
As soon as beans and corn were seen
Within the goodly-sized tureen,
In centre of the table.
We oft recall those happy times,
’Mid varied scenes, in distant climes,
And memory lingers round,
And brings to our enraptured view
That blessed home—the garden, too,
Where beans and corn abound.
And beans and corn do still abound,
And succotash is often found
Within our early home;
With grateful hearts to God above,
We often gather there in love
Too soon again to roam.
CLOSE OF THE DAY.
’Tis twilight, and the glorious sun
Hath left his place on high;
And evening shadows have begun
To steal along the sky.