Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, IA [i.e. Ind.]) 1839-1854, 1848-05-17
For the Palia6 ium.
THE RAVE.

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BIZ OWN.
The king rests in his palace lana his sub ecis in
their ten,s-the master dwels in his mansion.
and his slave in the humble hut; yet all will
know the same repose! Old age soon sleeps, and
rosy beauty often lays asid. the mantle TO rest
in the tomb. This universal agent that brings
low the naughty and offers such magnificent re-
pose for the humble, has inspired many minds 10
pay passing tribute of regard; for to it the
memory of all is linked by invisible chord
whose little fibres breattes lonely music, when
played by the breeze Of reflection, Who has not
heard its eolan voice rising even above the
hours Of gayety' Who has not felt that magic
forgetfuness of all things eAlst.ug. when though,
on thought rush quickly up from the unreiied
past, Who does not love TO listen to the
sweeping vi nds, and the Inutled murmur of the
streaml-t. while the spirits of air hieing
! to rest on that downy BOSOM Oh. we love all
these. though each II passes proiougs TO mind
the echo; the beautiful of earth rest in its en-
brace why wish to linger when all is no
more" Yes, there is charm about the grave,
We would not oispel; gloomy its walls are
painted look upon the m, then turn and fond
y gaze again.
the dead; though weknow that we no more will
iinger with them III hours that past, tho
know the silent lips ill never more move in
answer to call; Yet there is voice from the
grave. often more thrilling than the miustreIsy OF
the living
i In Thu. existence there are those pecuniary and
selfish motives that SO govern the mass, that we
know not a real frie nd but in the grave there
collections alone spring from its qu-t bosom.
" hen passing alone through the country 1t Is a
pleasure would not forego, to turn aside and
wander among the turf green coverts of the
dead. love to throw my load of care without,
and turn the rusty hinges OF that moss covered
gate, that opens alike for the rich and the poor.
the Ugh and the low, the aged ami the young
1t Is leaving the dusty road Of life to minge
with the dead in the autumnal groves of re-
lection
Here rests a father, and beside him the pride OF
his youti-ihere infant, cold aud sleeping,
far from the embrace of lis mother There the
wild rose, emblem of purity, shakes lis crystal
dew over the peaceful grave Of the village mai
den. noted its caspers reached tenderiy forth
as il they would Irvine above ano Their while the
long grass that took root over the tomb OF the
master deigned to weave " it'll that of his servile
tenant. Thus the loved of life unite in
DEATH and the rich man drives not the beggar
from his side. Sometimes have fingered longer
around the grave where boomed simple wild
brier evergreen, than where the costly monu
ment was reared IN state Tor one IL token OF
wealth, the token OF affec tion-one spoke OF pres
cnt Impulse but.the training Of the other told of
living fee ling that blOOmeu in the oasis of mind
watered from the dewy glades which once was
bright with hope now dim with fond regret.
The rather let the dead have home in the
heart, than in tho culptured marble; for
with these, when the west throws up her
twilight curtains, aud chiidhoodroves in plea
SAINT dreams, departed spirits wont to
linoer and hold sweet converse. Then let
there be a quiet about the grove Let it be
far removed from the tumults of the city; where
an oath is not heard, the idle laugh from the
passers by. Let the hum of the busy village die
the echo as it reaches this consecrated spot
let plain stone mark the place. with the name,
for it is Il comfort for the living, but let the
ument be erected in the heart.
Who would hear silks rustic from be meath the
lids Of the cotiinl The cease our idle mockery
of regard, for there is no place where simplicity
is SO beautiful and ostentatious display painful!
to the mind. The child would die in the spring,
that birds might carol and flowers shed their fra
GRANGE around--thc village maiden would rest
in Autumn, for she loved the falling leaves aud
tho passing winds, sweet lullaby TO departed
summer.
Oh the grave, the grave. that goal of earth
and starting point for Heaven; plant it with lau-
re IS sprinkle it with lilies, set it on wonder deuy
hil.' Let olives shade Virgin, and rose
bloom above Corinne-let the wild red hunter
Of Oregon rest amid the flowers Of his favorite
trees; and o. let our dead at least have graves
where they may rest in quietude undisturbed