George W. Bagby
(“The Old Virginia Gentleman”)
January Twenty-Third
I reckon hit’s well we wuz all set free,
I s’pose dat’s de way folks wuz meant ter be,
But I kain’t see w’y dey’s no manners lef’
Jes’ kase dey happens ter own deyse’f.
I dunno rightly how ol’ I is,
Hit mought be eighty, I reckon ’tis,
Yit I nuver gone now’ers, I tells you true,
But I tucken my manners an’ breedin’, too.
Anne Virginia Culbertson
January Twenty-Fourth
Dem sassy young niggers, dey plum’ disgrace
De res’ uv de’ ’spectable cullud race.
Dey got dey books, dey kin read an’ write,
But dey dunno ’nough fer to be perlite.
I kain’t see how dey gwine git erlong,
Hit seem lak sump’n have done gone wrong.
I gits wo’ out wid’em, dat’s de fac’,
But I orter mek ’lowance fer how dey ac’,
’Kase de times an’ de doin’s is changed a lot,
An’ dey ain’ had de raisin’ dat I done got.
Dar’s nuffin lef’ me but lookin’ on
Twel me an’ de ol’-time ways is gone.
Anne Virginia Culbertson
January Twenty-Fifth
Ah, only from his golden throne,
Upon his golden lute,
He touched the magic note; then Poe was known,
And so was quelled dispute.
Open thy portal, Fame! Let soar
That sombre bird, whose song is heard forevermore.
Daniel Bedinger Lucas
(Referring to first publication of Poe’s Raven, 1845)
George E. Pickett born, 1825