Miss Eva A. Jessye
From newspapers I have clipt several poems by Miss Jessye that exhibit a nature touched to the finer things of the world and of life. She has fancy, and skill in expression. I concluded section I of chapter II with a poem of hers, and I will here give two more. The first, in a lighter vein, betrays the human nature of a school-teacher in the midst of her vexations while she tries to appear above the reach of common desires.
SPRING WITH THE TEACHER
’Tis now the time of silver moon,
Of swelling bud and fancies free
As western winds, but then, ah me!
May cannot come too soon;
The rover calls in every child,
And sets his pulses running wild!
“Do stop that noise and take your seat!
Joe, learn to study quietly!
Why girl, it surely has me beat
How you forget geography!
Brazil’s in Spain? Here, close that book!
What caused the Civil War, you say?—
Suzanna says somebody took
Her beads; return them right away!
“Now boy, I told you once before
To put that story book away!
I’ll call the roll: Beatrice Moore,
Why were you absent yesterday?
Why yes, I heard that mocking bird.
Lee Arthur, straighten up your face!
Well, surely, class, you never heard
Of adverbs having tense and case!
“Now, James, explain the term ‘per cent,’
My, my, ’tis surely not forgot!
If it were fun or devilment
You’d know it all, sir, like as not!
Who put that bent pin in my chair?
No one of course—bent pins can walk!
I’ll tell you though, had I sat there
I’d make these straps and switches talk.
“A picnic on for Saturday?
(I wish that I were going, too!)
Oh, no! I couldn’t get away,
I have so many things to do.
Well, there’s the bell! Goodbye, goodbye,
And be good children, don’t forget.”—
Well, thank the Lord they’re gone, but I
Can hear their joyous laughter yet.
’Tis now the time of silver moon,
Of swelling bud and fancies free
As western winds, but then, ah me!
May cannot come too soon!
Though the moral motive is rarely consistent with the artistic, yet in the next poem of Miss Jessye’s I shall give there is a perfect reconciliation. Original no doubt is the idea of this poem, but Sappho, it seems to me, as one of her fragments bears witness, had meditated upon the very same idea twenty-five centuries ago.