Posts Tagged ‘1868’

October

October 1, 2012

Image from American Gallery – Miles Jefferson Early

Original.

OCTOBER.

BY CLARA DOTY.

Leaps October from the ashes dead
Of the radiant, glowing-souled September!
Now the sun burns in the heavens red,
Like an angry eye or a far ember.

To the sky the giant groves of oak
Arms of dull bronze, acorn-hung, are raising;
Poplars all are dimly white, like smoke;
All the sumach’s minarets are blazing.

Ripe nuts hang upon the bending trees,
Like the pendant heads on lily-anthers.
Squirrels, springing, shake them like a breeze —
Squirrels black or tawny, lithe as panthers.

Deer look into wild eyes as they drink —
Eyes all dark and soft and clear with wonder;
Wrinkled waters make the rushes shrink,
Break their shadowed lengths of green asunder.

Crickets clang their black metallic wings,
Drowning insect pipings shrill and slender;
Tardy bees, begirt with golden rings,
Hum around the garden’s faded splendor.

All the year’s sweet heats and rain have fled;
All its days are sad; and changed and sober
All its golden glow, its burning red,
As it wanes towards winter through October.

The Grand Traverse Herald (Traverse City, Michigan) Oct 8, 1868

The Races

July 17, 2012

Image from Brooklyn Before Now

THE RACES.

How do the horses come round at the corner?
When eyes are all straining
To see which is gaining,
And far-distant humming
Grows louder and clearer — grows stronger and nearer.
“They’re off?” “They are coming!”,
“Who leads?” “Black and red!” “No”  “Green by head!”
“The Earl!” “No the lady!” “Typhoes looks shady!”
“Orion! Orion — To live or to die on!”
“Twenty pounds to a crown — On the Little Blue Gown!”
“I’ll venture my whole in — That colt by Tom Bowline!”
“Paul Jones?” “Roscrucian!”
“Green Sleeve!” “Restitution!”
“Le Sarrazin!” “Pace!”
“It’s Mercury’s race!
Then they come lashing, and slashing, and dashing,
Their colors all flashing like lightning-gleams gashing
The darkness, where, clashing, the thunder is clashing!
With whipping and thrashing,
With crowding and smashing,
With pressing and stirring,
With lifting and spurring,
With pulling and striving,
With pushing and driving,
With kicking and sporting,
With neighing and snorting,
With frisking and whisking,
With racing and chasing,
With straining and gaining,
With longing and thronging,
With lunging and plunging,
With fretting and sweating,
With bustling, and hustling and justling,
With surging, and urging, and scourging,
With rushing, and brushing, and crushing,
With scattering, and pattering, and clattering,
With hurrying, and scurrying, and flurrying and worrying,
With sliding, and gliding, and riding, and striding,
With crying, and flying, and shying, and plying,
With crying, and vieing, and trying, and hieing!
Till rapidly spinning,
The ranks quickly thinning,
The crowd is beginning,
To see which is winning.
Some faces grow brighter — and some grow forlorner;
And that’s how the horses come round at The Corner!

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Aug 4, 1868

Image from York’s Historical Connection

Awake! Arise! or be Forever Fallen!

June 16, 2012

POLITICAL.

Will the country have Grant and peace, or Seymour and Blair and pieces.

General Grant crushed the rebellion. The present political contest is the endeavor of the rebellion to crush him.

The song of Seymour: “I’m afloat, I’m afloat!” The echo of Blair: “I’m a bloat. I’m a bloat!” — Chicago Post.

A Democratic paper delight to call Gen. Grant a despot. What kind of a pot, pray, is Frank Blair? — Hartford Post.

“The authority of a mob is equal to that of a Government.” –{Horatio Seymour, July, 4, 1863.}

The Law Caws. — the crowing of the copperhead cocks over the Kentucky election.

The Hartford Post perpetrates the following: Frank Blair’s “best hold” — to hold his tongue.

The Democratic papers declare that “Blair says what he means.” What does he mean when he says “er cons-ush’n mus’ be per’-suvd.”

Some of the seditious Southerners declare if Seymour is not elected they will leave the country. That is one of the strongest arguments for the election of Grant.

The World is anxious to discover a whisky meeter. The best whisky meeter we know of is Frank Blair. He meets it many times a day, but never allows it to pass him.

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Aug 25, 1868

“RED, WHITE AND BLUE.”

BY N.A. GRAY

The bullet and ballot change places,
The vote is our weapon once more,
The grey-coat is gone, but the faces
Are those we encountered before.
Our lines are again put in motion,
By Grant, who is able and true;
We will rally from ocean to ocean,
And stand by the “red, white and blue.”

A thousand torn soldiers at Dayton,
Are robbed of their vote by the foe;
A deed that sends blushes to satan,
And shames all the demons below.
The black man who fights and pays tax, too,
And those who their studies pursue,
Shall stand up by Grant and Colfax, too,
And Honor the “red, white and blue.”

Our Grant, the school-boy of Ravenna,
The Buckeye, we follow with pride,
With Colfax, of proud Indiana,
So worthy to stand by his side,
Warns Seymour and Blair to remember,
The red, white and [red] will not do;
We’ll meet them, the 8d of November,
And give them the “red, white and blue.”

Elyria Independent Democrat (Elyria, Ohio) Sep 9, 1868

Cedar Falls Gazette (Cedar Falls, Iowa) Sep 18, 1868

Who are Democrats?

The President, Vice President, and every member of the rebel Government, was a Democrat.

Every soldier, who, after being educated at the expense of the government basely deserted the flag of his country and took up arms against it was a Democrat.

Every member of both branches of the rebel Congress, was a Democrat.

Every man in the North who sympathized with traitors and treason in the South, during the late civil war was a Democrat.

Every cut-throat and murderer who shot down and starved defenseless Union prisoners of war, was a Democrat.

Every General, Colonel and officer in the Confederate army was a Democrat.

Every person who rejoiced at the assassination of Abraham Lincoln was a Democrat.

Every draft rioter, sneak and bounty jumper was a Democrat.

Every person who wrote letters to the army encouraging soldiers to desert their comrades, was a Democrat.

Every person who was sad when the Union army triumphed, was a Democrat.

Every person who assailed the “lawful money” of the country and the national credit was a Democrat.

Every person engaged in the massacre of Union soldiers at Fort Pillow, was a Democrat.

Every person who murdered an enrolling officer was a Democrat.

Every person engaged in the Sons of Liberty conspiracy to murder the Executive and overthrow the Government was a Democrat.

Every person in the North who opposed conferring suffrage upon Union Soldiers in the field, was a Democrat.

Every person who encouraged and protected deserters was a Democrat.

Every person who refused to contribute to the relief of sick and wounded soldiers, was a Democrat.

Every person who declared that he “would like to see all Democrats unite in a bold and open resistance to all attemps to keep our a united people” was a Democrat.

Every person who was in favor of “two republics and a united South” was a Democrat.

Every person who was anxious to know whether the “South had resources enough to keep the Union army at bay” was a Democrat.

Every person who denied the authority of the general government to enforce its laws was a Democrat.

Every person who recognized the rebellion as “legitimate, legal and just,” was a Democrat.

Every man who shouted “not another man nor another dollar to carry on a civil war,” was a Democrat.

Every man who insulted the loyal armies of the Union by declaring “the war a failure” was a Democrat.

Every person who invented dangerous compounds to burn our steamboats and Northern cities was a Democrat.

Every person who contrived hellish schemes to introduce the wasting pestilence of yellow fever into northern cities, was a Democrat.

Every person who robbed the school fund and used the money for gold gambling operations, was a Democrat.

Every person who engaged in shooting down negroes in the streets, and burning negro school-houses, was a Democrat.

Every person who burned up negro children in Orphan Asylums, was a Democrat.

Every officer in the army who was dismissed for cowardice and disloyalty was a Democrat.

Every man who denounced Union soldiers as “Lincoln hirelings,” was a Democrat.

Every man who denounced greenbacks as “Lincoln skins,” was a Democrat.

Every person who asserted that “Lincoln bayonets were shouldered for cold blooded murder,” was a Democrat.

Every man, who during the war asserted that the republic was “dying! dying!! dying!!!” was a Democrat.

Every person who conspired to release rebel prisoners and burn northern cities, was a Democrat.

Every member of the Ku-Klux-Klan is a Democrat.

Booth, the assassin, was a Democrat.

Seymour, who addressed a murderous mob as “my friends,” is a Democrat.

General Forrest, the Fort Pillow butcher, is a Democrat.

Wirz, the murderer of Union Soldiers, was a Democrat.

Dr. Blackburn is a Democrat.

Dr. Mudd, Payne, Alzerott and Mrs. Surratt were Democrats.

Wade Hampton, Jeff. Thompson and Beauregard, are Democrats.

Fernando Wood, his brother Ben, the gambler, and John Morrissey, are Democrats.

Renegade Doolittle is a Democrat.

Bowles, Milligan, Horsey, Heffron and Humphries, are Democrats.

John C. Walker and Dick Dodd, are Democrats.

Old “grandmother Welles” is a Democrat.

Clement L. Vallandigham is a Democrat.

Jeff. Davis, Brick Pomeroy, and the Devil are Democrats.

Indianapolis Journal.

Elyria Independent Democrat (Elyria, Ohio) Sep 30, 1868

Grand Traverse Herald (Traverse City, Michigan) Sep 6, 1868

Address Extraordinary.

TO THE DEMOCRACY OF PENNSYLVANIA.

(After the manner of Wallace.)

Hdqurs.State Central Kuklux,}
Harrisburg, Pa., Sept. 2, 1868.}

DEMOCRATS — Did you hear the reveille rolling in Vermont, on Tuesday?

Awake! Arise! or be forever fallen!

The Green Mountain boys kept quiet and noiseless, but they were lying in their trenches, and when we struck them, we felt their deadly musketry.

Danger threatens! The tyrant Grant will succeed the tyrant Lincoln. The mud sills, hirelings, carpet-baggers, minions, are rising in their strength as they rose in 1861.

Unless we carry Pennsylvania now, by foul means or fair, hope is gone.

The lost cause will be lost again.

The stars and bars will be folded forever.

Peace will reign.

The national debt will be paid.

The soldiers’ bounties will be paid.

The widows’ pensions will be paid.

The soldiers’ orphans’ schools will be endowed.

Gold will go down, credit will go up.

Prosperity and plenty will abound.

DEMOCRATS OF PENNSYLVANIA!

HOLD YOUR WAVERING LINES!

STEADY! STEADY! STEADY!

Defend nothing, for you cannot defend yourselves.

More money! More money! More money!

Advance the price of votes.

More coffee-stained naturalization papers.

More Father Tracys.

More murdered John Caseys, if the Irishmen ‘peach.

More John S. Kelleys, if they get frightened.

More Schuykill-county prothonetaries.

More “active Democrats.”

More railroad colonies.

Work! Work! Work! Direct your appeals to the passions, prejudices, and ignorance of the worse classes! Stir up the just-landed Irish against the nagurs!

Rally the White Boys of Bedford street! Bespatter the enemy with filth! Revel in profanity, and excel in abuse that distinguished Democrat, our illustrious leader in New York, Brick Pomeroy! Out-Pollard Pollard.

ABUSE THE PEOPLE!

Out with your wood-cuts, your roosters, your cannon! Magnify the national debt! Multiply your witticisms on Grant’s initials!

PURSUE THE ENEMY!

as you never did in war times. “Our grand old State moves slowly.” In very slow districts I have suggested a special contract with active men, thus: In 1865, the district polled 100 Democratic votes; 1866, 120 Democratic votes; now, for every Democratic vote over 110 polled, we will pay a fixed sum, the day after election.

LET US HAVE WAR!

By order:

W.A. VOXETRPR.ETERTANIHIL*
[Philadelphia Press.

The Grand Traverse Herald (Traverse City, Michigan) Oct 8, 1868

*I have no idea what that is supposed to say. That is what the spelling looked like on the digital newspaper image.

We Can’t Surrender Now!

June 15, 2012

WE CAN’T SURRENDER NOW.

The struggle was too fierce and long,
The cost in lives too dear —
Not yet forgotten are the braves
Who had no thought of fear;
They could not see the old flag torn,
From Freedom’s hallowed brow,
Nor can we lose what they bequeathed —
We can’t surrender now!

While Hope is strong within the breast
Of every freeman true —
While Union’s symbol proudly floats
Its red and white and blue —
While God is just, and Might o’er Right
No victory will allow,
We will be true to Liberty —
We can’t surrender now!

Then ask us not to vote for those
Who held our brave boys back,
When onward came the Union foes
With desolating track;
We cannot blot the record fair
Of Freedom’s holy vow,
We cannot dim Truth’s sacred light —
We can’t surrender now!

The Grand Traverse Herald (Traverse City, Michigan) Oct 29, 1868

An Irishman’s View of the Bond Question

June 13, 2012

An Irishman’s View of the Bond Question.

The Decatur Gazette reports the following conversation that occurred between a prominent Democrat and an Irishman of that city, recently. For convenience it designates the parties as Jack and Pat:

Jack — How do you like the Democratic platform?

Pat — I can’t understand it; would ye be after explaining it to me — all about the bond question?

Jack — Oh, yes, with pleasure. You see the rich men own all the bonds; and the poor men pay for the bonds.

Pat — The devil, ye say; Is that the way?

Jack — Yes, and now the Democratic party propose to pay off the debt in greenbacks, and thus everybody will be treated equally.

Pat — Is that in our platform?

Jack — Not in so many words — but that is what it means; and now Pat I want you to do all you can for the party — bring the boys to all the meetings, and —

Pat — Hould on, Jack; will yer payin the bonds off greenbacks make the poor man as rich as the bondholder?

Jack — Not exactly; there is not gold enough for the country.

Pat — Thin we are not to have gold at all. How in the divil are ye going to pay off the greenbacks?

Jack — A part of it will be paid off by taxation, the money we take from the people for revenue, and stamps, etc., and as the greenbacks get worn by constant handling we will print new ones.

Pat — I see; you propose to take the debt now carried by the rich bondholder and divide it among these people, rich and poor alike, by forcing the bondholder to spend his money for property.

Jack — Exactly — you are learning fast, and you see —

Pat — Hould on — an idee strikes me. If the government debt is all in greenbacks, and thim in circulation, how many cords of ’em will it take to buy a cord of wood?

Jack — I cannot exactly say what they would be worth — that will regulate itself. But, by the by, Pat, could you pay me that little note you owe me? It was due yesterday, and I need the money very much.

Pat — Yes, I know the note is due, and I’ll pay ye according to the Dimmecratic platform

Jack — What do you mean?

Pat — I mane I’ll give you a fresh note for the one ye have.

Jack — There’s nothing about giving fresh notes in the Democratic platform.

Pat — Yis, ye said we’d pay the bonds oll in greenbacks, and both of them are promises to pay of the same govenment. Ye’s give one promise to pay for another one, and I’ll give you a fresh promise to pay for the one you have now. The note you have now says 1- per cent. interest; the new one will say without interest, and no time set for its payment.

Jack — But this is an individual matter and the other is a government matter. You honestly owe me, and promised to pay me yesterday. Your proposition is to cheat me out of my money.

Pat — An’ its chatin’ ye out of your money is it? An’ havn’t I as good a right to chate you as the government has to chate the widders and orphans whose money is all in government bonds? I’ll pay ye on the Dimmecratic platform!

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Sep 1, 1868

What it Was, But is Not

June 12, 2012

What it Was, But is Not.

From the Paris (Ill.) Beacon and Blade.

The old Democratic party, under whose banners we rallied in days gone by, and bore with pride our share of the conflict, rejoicing in its victories, and bewailing its defeats, was in truth a gallant organization, with blood and bone in its composition. It was a great party; one to be feared in a canvass, and entitled to the love of its friends and the respect of its foes. In power, the country was safe in its hands; out of power, its influence was still felt, and in spite of he great destructive element which for so many years controlled its administration of affairs, and finally culminated in a bloody war, we believed that it was in the main right, and best calculated to secure the greatest good to the greatest number.

We could have forgotten a thousand errors, save that of luke warm friendship to our country’s flag in times of peril, and tacit abetment of treason.

This high crime sunk the party, a disorganized mass, too low for resurrection; but out of the odds and ends there vegetated into action another organization that seized hold of the old name, and being drawn together by the cohesive power of plunder into something approximating unity of action, they set up in antagonism to Republicanism.

The distinctive differences between Democracy that was, and Democracy that is, may be summed up as follows:

Old Democracy advocated a specie basis.

New Democracy takes its success on greenbacks.

O.D. was patriotic.

N.D. abets traitors and despises loyal blue.

O.D. was expansive and progressive.

N.D. disfranchises students.

O.D. gave the ballot to the negro.

N.D. denies the ballot to crippled soldiers.

O.D. was decent and respectable.

N.D. reads and relishes Brick Pomeroy.

O.D. was feared and respected.

N.D. is laughed at and despised.

The rapid and startling changes daily going on in the principles of the new Democracy, will enable us to extend the above differences ad infinitum.

Alton Weekly Telegraph (Alton, Illinois) Jul 3, 1868

Image of Brick Pomeroy   from Wisconsin Historical Society

The following excerpt is from:
M.M. “Brick” Pomeroy: Forgotten Man of the Nineteenth Century
By Ruth Ann Tucker, 1979
Murphy Library Digitized Sources

 

M. M. “Brick” Pomeroy was a nineteenth-century American journalist whose active career spanned more than three decades, from the late 1850’s through the 1880’s. He was a highly controversial figure associated with many facets of American life, including Democratic politics, the Tweed Ring, the Greenback movement, Spiritualism, and western mining and tunnel building. Though a vile racist, he was a staunch supporter of workers and women and had a close affinity with farmers. He was acquainted with a number of noteworthy contemporaries, including Stephen Douglas, Henry Clay Dean, Benjamin Butler, Horace Greeley, William M. Tweed, and William F. Cody. He was a popular journalist, particularly in the rural Midwest and South, and for a time his La Crosse (Wis.) Democrat attained a larger circulation than any other newspaper in the country.

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Sep 1, 1868

Does Thee Believe in France?

June 9, 2012

A skeptical young collegian confronted an old Quaker with the statement that he did not believe in the Bible. Said the Quaker;

“Does thee believe in France?”

“Yes, for though I have not seen it I have seen others that have; besides, there is plenty of corroborative proof that such a country does exist.”

“Then thee will not believe anything thee or others has not seen.”

“No, to be sure I won’t.”

“Did thee ever see thy own brains?”

“No.”

“Ever see anybody that did?”

“No.”

“Does thee believe thee has any?”

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Aug 4, 1868

Cantata of the Hay Makers

June 7, 2012

Image from Hillsdale College 1881 Catalogue

Hillsdale, June 16, 1868.

H.B. ROWLSON ESQ: — The notice of the Beethoven Society of Hillsdale College of the Concerts to be given by that Society to-night and to-morrow night with the programme of the “Cantata of the Hay Makers,” suggested to me a beautiful piece of “word painting.”

It is redolent of the fragrance of flowers and of new mown hay, and musical with the cheery songs of the mowers, and with the ring and stroke of their scythes. Please publish it to-day as very appropriate to the occasion.          M.

Image from 19th Century American Women

We are up and away, ere the sunrise hath kist,
In the valley below us, that ocean of mist;
Ere the tops of the hills have grown bright in its ray,
With our scythes on our shoulders, we’re up and away!
The freshness and beauty of morning are ours,
The music of birds and the fragrance of flowers;
And our trail is the first that is seen in the dew,
As our pathway through orchards and lanes we pursue.

The helmeted clover, in serried array,
Like a host for the battle, awaits us to-day;
Like a host overthrown, rank by rank, shall it lie
Ere the heats of the noontide are poured from the sky.
Hurrah! — here we are! — now together, as one,
Give you scythes to the sward, and press steadily on;
All together, as one, o’er the stubble we pass,
With a swing and a ring of the steel through the grass.

Before us the clover stands thickly and tall,
At our left it is piled in a verdurous wall;
And never breathed monarch more fragrant perfumes
Than the sunshine distills from its leaves and its blooms.
Invisible censers around us are swung,
And anthems exultant from tree-tops are flung;
And mid fragrance and music and beauty we share
The jubilant life of the Earth and the Air.

Let the priest and the lawyer grow pale in their shades,
And the slender young clerk keep his skin like a maid’s;
We care not, though dear mother Nature may bronze
Gur cheeks with the kiss which she gives to her sons.
Then cheerly, boys, cheerly! — together, as one,
Give your scythes to the sward, and press steadily on;
All together, as one, o’er the stubble we pass,
With a swing and a ring of the steel through the grass.

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Jun 16, 1868

From the Atlantic Monthly, June 1862 article: The Health of Our Girls:

The Cost of Whisky

June 7, 2012

Image from the National Library of Ireland Blog

The Cost of Whisky.

The revenue statistics show some striking particulars as to the follies and extravagance of the public. The national debt contracted during a prodigious war, and with one-half the territory of the Union in the hands of the enemy, after deducting what has been redeemed, reaches the sum of $2,600,000,000; and the Democracy, to suppress whose rebellion this whole debt was incurred, are greatly concerned lest the people should forget how oppressively that debt bears upon them. We have shown in a former article that, within the three years which followed the close of the war, the share of the debt falling to each head of the population has decreased from eighty to sixty-five dollars, and that in 1870 it will be reduced to sixty-three per head without the payment of any portion of the principal.

In the meantime, the annual taxation has been reduced two hundred millions, and farther reductions will follow. We invite the attention of these declaimers against the “enormous burden” of the national debt, to the statement of the Special Commissioner of the Revenue, Mr. Welles, as to the retail sales of spirituous liquors, wines, ale and beer, in the United States during the last year. We do not refer to the sales of wholesale, but to those at retail, sworn to by the retailers, who have paid the license tax on their sales. We give the table by States, and the figures represent the amount paid by the drinkers and consumers to the retailers over the counter:

Thus it will be seen that during the fiscal year of 1866-67, the people of the United States paid for strong drinks over the counter to retail dealers, the sum of fourteen hundred and eighty-three millions four hundred and ninety-one thousand and eight hundred and sixty-five dollars. —

That sum is more than equal to one-half the principal, and the annual interest of the public debt. That sum if applied to the payment of the debt, would redeem it all in gold in two years. The amount of money paid by actual consumers for this strong drink in three years, would equal the entire debt of the Union, of all the States, and of all the cities, counties and towns of the United States. — [Chicago Tribune.]

The Hillsdale Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Jun 9, 1868

Autumn Mosaics

November 6, 2011

Image from the Graham Owen Gallery website

NOVEMBER.

The Autumn skies are blue above,
The Autumn hills are brown,
On every kingly forest tree
There shines a golden crown,
And flushing through the valley’s haze
The sunlit waters go,
And in the wood the wind is heard
Like plaintive songs of wo!

The ocean shores are bare and black,
White scud is in the skies,
Thro’ ev’ning twilight overhead
The rushing wild duck flies,
From out the chestnut wood you hear
The nutter’s laugh and call;
And sunbeams play in purple round
The hazy waterfall.

The flowers have vanished from the wood,
And by the running streams —
We think of them as schoolmates dead,
Or friends we knew in dreams,
The dry stalks crackle as we walk —
Keen fitful gusts are heard —
Oh! with what melancholy strange
The thoughtful heart is stirred.

Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Nov 25, 1844


FALLING LEAVES.

They are falling, slowly falling,
Thick upon the forest side,
Severed from the noble branches,
Where they waved in beauteous pride.
They are falling in the valleys,
Where the early violets spring,
And the birds in sunny spring time
First their dulcest music sing.

They are falling, sadly falling,
Close beside our cottage door;
Pale and faded, like the loved ones,
They have gone forever more.
They are falling, and the sunbeams
Shine in beauty soft around;
Yet the faded leaves are falling,
Falling on the mossy ground.

They are falling on the streamlets,
Where the silvery waters flow,
And upon its placid bosom
Onward with the waters go.
They are falling in the churchyard,
Where our kindred sweetly sleep;
Where the idle winds of summer
Softly o’er the loved ones sweep.

They are falling, ever falling,
When the autumn breezes sigh,
When the stars in beauty glisten
Bright upon the midnight sky.
They are falling, when the tempest
Moans like ocean’s hollow roar,
When the tuneless winds and billows
Sadly sigh for evermore.

They are falling, they are falling,
While our saddened thoughts still go
To the sunny days of childhood,
In the dreamy long ago.
And their faded hues remind us
Of the blighted hopes and dreams
Faded like the falling leaves
Cast upon the icy streams.

Decatur Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Nov 26, 1868


AUTUMN MOSAICS.

STUBBLE FIELDS.

Along the hills the squares of gold
That check the fading green,
A sweeter tale to me have told
Than many a fairer scene.
The winding swathes by reapers made,
Like wrinkles ill-concealed
By time on aged beauty laid,
Adorn the stubble field.

AUTUMN RAIN.

Steady,. downright, noiseless rain,
Emblem of Almighty power,
Soft as the dews that bathe the plain,
Unlike the summer’s lurid shower,
And summer’s torrid rage,
Thou art like the rest of age.

Patient as a Father’s love,
Steady as the Christian’s trust,
Noiseless falling from above
On the unjust and the just,
Storing wealth in field and Spring,
Summer’s coming days shall bring.

FROST.

It smote the flowers in its wrath,
It smote the weed beside the path,
Blind in its rage it smote the corn,
As well as blossoms that adorn
The crimson wreaths of climbing vine,
That round the forest monarch twine,
The frost and death blind as fate,
And stop not to discriminate.

SOUND FROM THE FIELDS.

There’s a humming drone and undertone
Of cricket and locust and bee,
From the drowsy fields at noon,
Like a child who sings to itself alone,
Then nods and sleeps to the melody
Of its own unstudied tune.

Cambridge Jeffersonian (Cambridge, Ohio) Sep 10, 1885