“I stand within this solemn place,
And think of days gone by--
I think of many an old-time face,
Here’s where those faces lie,
“I think of when, what time God please,
The hour shall came to me,
That covered with the clay, like these,
My face shall masked be.
“No marble monument shall rise
Above that grave of mine--
No loving friends will wipe their eyes
When life I shall resign.
“But when I leave my life--have left
My every present care--
I’ll find a home of care bereft;
My friends are living there.
The New Orleans Times, in speaking of Irwin Russell, after his death,
said of him: “He was employed occasionally on this paper, and while so,
wrote many a pretty little poem, and many a little catch which reveal
an inner life, which hard lines hid from the view of the world. His
fund of humor showed itself best in dialect writing, and some things he
has written have already found permanent resting places in the compiled
editions of American humorous verse.”
For several years Irwin Russell was an interesting and valued
contributor to Scribner’s Monthly, and some of his poems have appeared
since his death, in The Century. The productions were mostly of the
negro dialect order, and occasionally they consisted of Irish sketches
in verse. About the last thing published was an Irish dialect poem,
entitled Larry’s on the Force, which appeared in The Century. The poem
tells in the fourth verse of Larry’s appearance as a policeman:
“He shtips that proud and shtately-loike, you’d think he owned the
town,
And houlds his shtick convenient to be tappin’ some wan down--
Aich blissed day, I watch to see him comin’ up the sthrate,
For by the greatest bit of luck, our house is on his bate.”
Russell’s crowning effort was a piece of dialect verse entitled The
First Banjo. It appeared in Scribner’s, and is worthy of reprint here: