It is our mission at “Virginia Gentry” to cultivate the greater Southern Tradition during this era of cultural besiegement we are living in, and to expose this noble heritage to the next generation growing up in our beloved Dixie.
To that end, in addition to publishing literary fiction, we have decided to publish classical Southern poetry from yesteryear, and wonderful new verses from poets who call the Southland home today. We hope you enjoy this monthly segment beginning here.
I also want to apologize for the over-representation of my work in this month’s “Southern Verse Segment”, the choice to begin this segment today was a spur-of-the-moment decision. For that reason, we were not able to source any submissions. However, if you are interested in submitting your poetry for publication here, please do not hesitate to do so! — J.R. Dunmore, EIC
The Shenandoah Valley By J.R. Dunmore Take me back to the country Hollers and hills my homeland Mountains, valleys, and old trees Clear nights viewing starry bands Huntin’, fishin’, trappin’, and such Of the like, I’ve grown to know I could not spend time too much To the Valley, I must go For culture here means much more Then dress, custom, or feeling Though vessels change souls endure Through years they keep on being The rivers and mountains sing To the one who made all them The cricks and meadows dream Remembering creation No other place I call home To the country, I rally This Holy place that I own The Shenandoah Valley A Common Thought By Henry Timrod Somewhere on this earthly planet In the dust of flowers to be, In the dewdrop, in the sunshine, Sleeps a solemn day for me. At this wakeful hour of midnight I behold it dawn in mist, And I hear a sound of sobbing Through the darkness—hist! oh, hist! In a dim and murky chamber, I am breathing life away, Some one draws a curtain softly, And I watch the broadening day. As it purples in the zenith, As it brightens on the lawn, There's a hush of death about me, And a whisper, "He is gone!"
Thank for this project from another citizen of the occupied Southern nation. Deo vindice! (Actually, He has).