The Flood of 1893

[In the May 23, 1893 issue of the Banner-Democrat]

The crops wre growing grandly,
The cotton and the corn;
The May month smiled down blandly,
Upon each roseate morn.

All nature seemed rejoicing
In this glad sunny clime;
The bending stalks were voicing,
The future’s happy time.

A wealth of untold pleasure,
Came clearly into view,
With the full harvest treasure,
Which Christmas time was due.

The corn cribs overflowing,
The fat and shining team,
The flecey fields seemed showing,
So life like is the dream.

But ah! How changed the prospect;
A dismal cry is heard.
The Wyly levee broken,
On May the 23rd.

A wilderness of water
New where the crops did grow;
Our faith in levees totter,
Not reaping where we sow.

A wreck of desolation,
Thus stares us in the face;
What hope or consolation
In future, can we trace?

[Unkown, but probably D. L. Morgan}