Black Pioneer Poet: Effie Waller Smith

Black Pioneer Poet: Effïe Waller Smith Editor's Note: David Deskins's obsession to find the roots and directions of Effie Waller's life is no less intense than was Alex Haley's search for Kunte Kinte. David, a white male in Pikeville, has been in the coal business as well as a wildlife and game warden. He dug up and hunted down the lost records of Pikeville's (and perhaps the entire Appalachian region's) earliest published black poetess—Effie Waller. David founded Intrinsic Publishing as a medium through which to publish Ms. Waller's works. Effie, according to David's forthcoming biography, was born on Chloe Creek in Pike County, Kentucky, in 1879. He has reprinted three volumes of her previously published work: Rhymes from the Cumberlands (1987), Rosemary and Pansies (1988), and Songs ofthe Months (1989). (For more information, contact Intrinsic Publishing, Box 124, Holly Drive, Pikeville, Kentucky 41501.) Heredity From: Rosemary and Pansies Our dead forefathers, mighty though they be, For all their power still leave our spirits free; Though on our paths their shadows far are thrown, The life that each man liveth is his own. Time stands like some schoolmaster old and stern And calls each human being in his turn To write his task upon life's blackboard space; Death's fingers then the finished work erase, And the next pupil's letters takes its place. That he who wrote before thee labored well Concerns thee not: thy work for thee must tell; "Tis naught to thee if others' tasks were ill: Thou has thy chance and canst improve it still. From all thy fathers' glory and their guilt The board for thee is clean: write what thou wilt. From Rosemary and Pansies (originally published in 1909) 66 My Native Mountains From: Rhymes from the Cumberlands I love my native mountains, The dear old Cumberland, Rockribbed and everlasting, How great they are, and grand! I love each skyward reaching peak, Each grassy glade and dale, Each moss-and-fern-clad precipice Each lovely flower decked vale. I love each vine-hung rock glen, I love each dark ravine Though there may hide the catamount And wild dog sly and mean. I love my mountains' forest Varied and beautiful I love her springs and waterfalls, So pure and wonderful. I love her richly plumaged birds The pheasant and the jay, The merry scarlet tanager, The woodpeck bright and gay. How oft among these mountains Has the silvery music clear From the lark's throat cheered the traveler, And the honest mountaineer. But more than these old mountains Which with wonder I revere I love with true devotion The people who live here. So here's with love sincere and dear For her sons of brawn and worth; For her daughters pure and lovely, The fairest types of earth. From Rhymes from the Cumberlands (originally published in 1901) 67 ...