Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1848-05-20
EOR TIE AMERICAN


S'rha spring is h,rc, the delicate footed May,
With lis slight fingers full of leaves ami
flowers,
And with it comes thirst to be away,
Wasting in wood paths its yoluptuous hours
\ feeling that is like sense OF wings
Restless 10 soar above thcse parishing things
How beautiful our lairy-like village appears
in lis sprng-iime nesting like dove, amid
It's mountain barrier.
lis loveliaess steals as a dream of heaven,
over the heart Of the stranger, but with us
who have dwelt here from infancy, its beau
ties are treasured in the !:hear,s holiest Of
holies." Each scene is endeared TO us, the
green bank where our little feet roamed in
our earliest years, the broad clear river from
whose bed we gathered pebbles, or launched
our tiny boats, anxious for their fate, as the
Hindoo girl when she sends forth her ark of
the heart upon the Ganges.
The deep woods with their wealth of wild
flowers, the spring round which we sat in its
depths, and whispered with pale lips of the
fearful deeds there performed, of the babe
torn from its Mothers bosom and dashed a.
gainst the trees which lowered around us,
and the young maiden borne afar from her
loved home How we started and gazed
fearfully around as the leaves rustled above
us, dreading least a red face should peer upon
us from their branches.
Memory brings back each happy hour,
each childish haunt-the quiet grave yard,
! ,har h,,sh al nI
we wandered many an hour, reading the in
scriptions upon the grave stones and compa-
ring the ages ofthose who mouldered beneath
with our own-or with gay shout and merry
song bounding over the little bridge that eros
sed the creek beyond, filling our baskets with
| berries gathered from the hill side or wreath
| ing garlands of wild flowers through our
desheveled hair, Or in later years the tire
some scramble up the mountain 10 Mason's
house, that wander of our childish years, the
toll well repaid by the beauty of the scene
| spreading beneath the clear stream flowing
at its foot, the white bridges that span it
! cleaning like wreaths of foam over its dark
/ blue waters-the green island slumbering in
! lllt sunlight ii'tio toNh pSDpiiu Win
its white cottages and waving trees. And
when the exuberent spirits of childhood have
fled, who can gaze upon lis moonlight beauty
and listen to the night wind as it rusiles
through the trees in gashes of litfnl melody,
and not feel an aspiration for holier higher
state ? \ sweet melancholy steals over us
| like the dying notes of an echo in some lone
old cavern, and we turn sick at heart from
the vanities of the world Even if the heart
be chilled and desolate, even if the angel
which hovers round the babe has deserted
his post, and suffered sinful thoughts and un-
holy desires to sully the purity of the soul
communion here, with nature in her loveliest
aspect with an humble lifting of the heart TO
Natures God, may bring back the purity of
childhood, peace be wooed 10 spread her
white wings again over him and hope circle
his heart with a wreath of sunbeams,
Happy are those who may dwell amid the
tranquil scenes of this earthly paradise, turn
ing their hearts in unison with its calm beau
ty, May their pilgrimage be pleasant, and
when the ''silver cord is loosed,n may they
wave their bright garlands of victory, and
strike their golden harps amid the throng OF
redeemed spirits, in the land of perfect Joy
sUNpuRy, May l6, ls4s