Pattie Louphelia Busby Green (4 of 4) Viola Muse Transcription Zariah Grant Encoding and edition Katherine Mezich

This document was produced as part of the Viola Muse Digital Edition (violamuse.unfdhi.org), based at the University of North Florida.

https://violamuse.unfdhi.org/admin/items/show/67 USA Florida Jacksonville Jacksonville Historical Society Viola Muse Collection (1959-18) Folder 10, item 8 Notes on poet Busby Green, with two of her poems

Handwritten, two pages, with damage to edges

Document transcribed and encoded following the criteria of the Viola Muse Digital Edition (violamuse.unfdhi.org), based at the University of North Florida.

Pattie Louphelia Busby Green, born — Marietta, Ga.Georgia, July 22, 1882., Isis a writer of poetry. When her book of poems was shown John Henry Titus, the famous writer and arthorauthor of <choice><orig>"</orig><reg/></choice>The Face on the Bar Room Floor,<choice><orig>"</orig><reg/></choice>See The Face on the Bar Room Floor. as well as many others noted poems, he wrote these words in the front of his own book.:

"To Pattie B. Green —, NovNovember 25, 1935 —." Quote: — "Ever conserve the Spiritualspiritual folklore in all your poems. They are triteSee trite. and correct. "John Henry Titus"."

She has compiled a book of her various poems, which is We have added is. about to go to press and then offered for sale,.

Specimen:

"The Beautiful Lake."

Written on the train at HaynesHaines City, FlaFlorida

The chug, chug, chug of the power house, As the smoke rolled in curls to the west, The evening comes on as still as a mouse, While the birds all go to their nests.

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The shadows are falling on the beautiful lake., The trees seem to lay in the waves, That mule and wagon seem to stand on the lake., As he lazily switches his tail. The wind is blowing on the beautiful lake, The sun’s turning red in the west, All babies are going to bed to rest. Who can tell what tomorrow will tell.? As the lake glistens like a great polished case, Whose secrets of death does it hold., As the majesty of its beauty bold, Gazes mutely, calm, and cold.?
My Queen O! God of my life, my very soul., Goes out in thanks to Thee, For the woman Thou gavest to be my queen, The glory of my home —. The air she breathes is my very breath, Her love lies in my heart, Her children are fair because of her love, That rules in my home of rest.