Mrs. Annie Chambers Ketchum, poet, naturalist, and novelist, was born near Georgetown, Kentucky, November 8, 1824, the daughter of Benjamin Stuart Chambers, founder of Cardome Academy; her mother was a member of the famous Bradford family of journalists. Miss Chambers was graduated from Georgetown Female College with the M. A. degree. Her first husband was William Bradford, whom she married in 1844, and from whom she was subsequently divorced. After her separation from her husband, she went to Memphis, Tennessee, and opened a school for girls, which she conducted for several years. In 1858 she was married to Leonidas Ketchum, a Tennessean, who was mortally wounded at the battle of Shiloh in 1863. After her husband's death, Mrs. Ketchum returned to Kentucky and conducted a school at Georgetown for three years, but, in 1866, she returned to Memphis, where she again taught for a number
APRIL TWENTY-SIXTH [From The Southern Poems of the War, edited by Emily V. Mason (Baltimore, 1867)] Dreams of a stately land, Where roses and lotus open to the sun, Where green ravine and misty mountains stand, Dreams of the earnest-browed And eagle-eyed, who late with banners bright, Rode forth in knightly errantry, to do Devoir for God and right. Shoulder to shoulder, see The crowning columns file through pass and glen! Hear the shrill bugle! List the rolling drum, Mustering the gallant men! Resolute, year by year, They keep at bay the cohorts of the world; Hemmed in, yet trusting in the Lord of Hosts, The cross is still unfurled. Patient, heroic, true, And counting tens where hundreds stood at first; Dauntless for truth, they dare the sabre's edge, The bombshell's deadly burst. While we, with hearts made brave By their proud manhood, work, and watch, and pray, Till, conquering fate, we greet with smiles and tears The conquering ranks of grey! Oh, God of dreams and sleep, Dreamless they sleep—'tis we, the sleepless, dream, Defend us while our vigil dark we keep, Which knows no morning beam! Bloom, gentle spring-tide flowers— Sing, gentle winds, above each holy grave, While we, the women of a desolate land, Weep for the true and brave. Memphis, Tennessee. |