Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1850-02-09
Ny Winter Room,

And crashing through the trees, upon the panes
A dull sound tells the beating of the snow,
And, now and then, sharp quick tinkling,
where
The hail is shifting. Harl, how bitterly
The wild wind shrieks I! and, as glance from out
My easement, nothing but the black sky o'or,
And the pale ghastly snow beneath, 1 see.
Within, how warm and cosy is my room
The broad bright blazo leaps, laughing, crack
ling up
The rumblins chimney, shedding round my
walls
Its rosy radiance. Swarms Of ruddy sparks,
Like dancing fire-Aies, hover now below
The chimney's mouth, now stream up quietly
Its sable throat and right at my face
Dart swiftly. swapping out their tcsty lives.
The great swart andirons stand in sulky strength
Amidst the glowing rcdncss Now and then
A brand breaks up, and falls on either side,
Attended by a merricr dance of sparks,
! And then the play of shadows. On the wall
The tongs has cast straddling shape, with knob
Nodding so wisely every chair has lined
Its giant framework all around. The tall
Quaint clock, which ticks with such industrious
tongue,
Ginning harmonious with the silver chirp
OF tho unccasing cricket, casts its high
And reaching figure up the WALL with breast
Bent to an angle, strcoching half along
The ceiling wavering to each mirthful fit
OF the glad freight. How the cinder-blozc
Flashes upon tho letters of my books,
Dances along the barrel of my gun,
| IN = 4 = Il. =
In tho calm forest when the smoky air
Rang with its voico) and glittering on the joints
OF my long flshing-rod (awalkencr too
Of cool, dark forest streams and lcaping trout,
And dashng music, and of network gold
Dropped by low branchcs), glancing in tho
dark,
Smooth polish of my cane (that also tells
OF ramblcrs in the fresh, green, pastoral hills
TO view the summer sunset-through the glcns
To while away the languid summer heat,
And by broad waters where the harycst-moon
Behold its face rchected), CHEEKY nook,
Sweet checry nook how gladly hero
My heart expands in pure bcatitudc,
Feeling all its storms hushcd in holy rest,
All tumults soothcd--at sweet peace with
s itScit-
In kindness with all kind. The manslng day,
Cares, disappointments, sorrows may have
brought, ...-.
But all have vanished. All the bitter things
OF being-unapprcciotcd worth ..
Wounded aifcction-barrcd ambition like
The Phenix burning in the aamcsit fans
With its own pinions hopes that, like old Rome,
Are strewed in wrecks, which tell how brisht
and grand
Their pristine shapes; all these roll off like
mists, ..'.. ..ft.
And leave tho crmsoncd room q radiant shrine
OF blcst contcntmcnt. Hero the fancy, too,
- Rcvcls in its sweet dreaming, tracing things
Grotesluc and beautiful from out the Goals,
Ono glowing like fainished lions eye,
One cracking open like amaidcn's lips
SO soft and rich their velvet ruddincss),
And melting one in ashes soft and grey,
Like sunsets rim, what time the sun hath sunl
Beneath it; and not only this, but Tapped
In poetry, which dances now in sweet
And fairy music, as of harp and flute,
And marching now in steady phalanx on
or To drum and trumpet. CLOVIS the happy sou
n. Responsive, till the hours in downy feet
III Havo brought the time for slunber-thcn witt
10 prayer
20 To God, my head upon its pillow sinks,
" ', And hearing, in the slow delicious crcop
re OF slumber o'er the frame, the stormy wind
Or And beating snow, l slide within the land,
of The dim, mysterious, unknown land Of dreams
IN fe ..r ALFRED b. STREET.