OR, THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 47 



'Tis a long lane that never turns, 



Hair from dog is good for the bite, 

 Just keep still, and things will turn round, 



Darkest honr comes before daylight. 



Blood will tell, tho' it seemeth dead, 



Will rejuvenate, will flow again, 

 Scions will spring and flourish here, 



Tho' the paternal stalk be slain. 



New scions shall take the firmer root, 



True scions from a noble race, 

 Who shall be rulers of this land. 



No darker blood can e'er displace. 



For 'tis written in their very hearts, 



Written there in blood's red ink, 

 'Twill never be recorded here. 



We are ruled by a race that st-kink. 



Let Southern States as sisters be, 



True sisters walking hand in hand. 

 Their native worth is sure to win, 



There's none like them in all the land. 



Like lilies bent by stormy blasts. 



And as the eagle stoops to rise. 

 Fair Dixie thou hast but to wait, 



For thou shalt soar as the eagle flies. 



FIFTY YEARS AGO. 



Fifty years ago, age of content. 



Before fashion's laws were defied. 

 And our worship was so simple then, 



When our wants were not so amplified. 



