Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/195

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Aptly has Mr. McClellan entitled his book of poems The Path of Dreams. A dreamer is he and the home of his spirit is dreamland:

Sweet-scented winds move inward from the shore, Blythe is the air of June with silken gleams, My roving fancy treads at will once more The golden path of dreams.

And that path leads the poet ever back to the golden days of his youth, when Southern suns and Southern moons steeped his very being in dreams and Southern birds gave him their melodies and Southern mountains lifted his soul heavenward. A wanderer upon the earth he appears to have been, and as all wanderers’ hearts turn back to some loved region or spot so his to Dixie. Seldom has the longing for distant, remembered scenes, for spring’s returning and for summer’s glow, been more sweetly expressed in rhyme than in the various poems of The Path of Dreams. And