Frank Lebby Stanton or F. L. Stanton was an American Lyrist born on February 22, 1857 in Atlanta, GA. He was the first professional columnist for the Atlanta Constitution and the first poet laureate for the state of Georgia. Mr. Stanton was often called “the James Whitcomb Riley of the South”; The two writers were close friends who frequently traded poetic ideas. Stanton frequently wrote in the dialect of black southerners and poor whites, although he was an opponent of the less-admirable aspects of the culture in which he lived (such as lynching), and he tended to be compatible in philosophy with the southern progressivism of his employer, the Atlanta Constitution, where he was an editorial writer. (Source: AllPoetry.com)
In the white moonlight, where the willow waves,
He halfway gallops among the graves—
A tiny ghost in the gloom and gleam,
Content to dwell where the dead men dream,
But wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.
Over the shimmering slabs he goes—
Every grave in the dark he knows;
But his nest is hidden from human eye
Where headstones broken on old graves lie.
Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit, though sceptics scoff,
Charmeth the witch and the wizard off!
The black man creeps, when the night is dim,
Fearful, still, on the track of him;
Or fleetly follows the way he runs,
For he heals the hurts of the conjured ones.
Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
The soul’s bewitched that would find release,—
To the graveyard rabbit go for peace!
He holds their secret—he brings a boon
Where winds moan wild in the dark o’ the moon;
And gold shall glitter and love smile sweet
To whoever shall sever his furry feet!
Wary still!
For they plot him ill;
For the graveyard rabbit hath a charm
(May God defend us!) to shield from harm.
Stanton died in 1927 and was buried in Atlanta's Westview Cemetery. One of his most widely quoted lines appears on his tombstone, a quatrain titled “The World:” (Source: Georgia Center for the Book)
This world we're a'livin' in
Is mighty hard to beat.
You get a thorn with every rose.
But ain't the roses sweet?
* Rabbit Image Credit: The Wild Life Trusts
