The Port Gibson herald, and correspondent. (Port Gibson, Claiborne Co., Miss.) 1848-18??, 1850-10-25
The Old Church Yard Tree.
A PROSE POEM.

There is an old yew tree which stands /
by the wall in dark quiet corner of the
church-yard. And child was at play be-
meath its wide-spreading branches. one fine
day in the early spring. He had his lap
full of flowers, which the fields and lands
had supplied him with, and he was hum
ming a tune to himself as he wove them
into garlands.
And little girl at play among the tomb
stones crept near to listen; but the boy was
so intent upon his garland, that he did not
hear the gentle footsteps, as they trod
softly over the fresh green grass. When
his work was finished, and all the flowers
that were in his lap were woven together
in one long wreath, he started up to meas
ure its length upon the ground, ana tneh
he saw the little girl, as she stood with her
ewes fixed upon him. He did not move
or speak, but thought to himself that she
looked very beautiful as she stood there
with her faxen ringlets hanging down
upon her neck. The little girl was so
startled by his sudden movement, that she
let fall all the flowers she had collected IN
her apron, and ran away as fast as she
could. But the boy was older and taller
than she, and soon caught her. and coaxeti
her to come back and play with him, and
help him to make more garlands; and from
that time they saw each other.nearly every
day, and became great friends.
Twenty wears passed away. Again he
was seated beneath the old yew tree in
the church-yard. -,
1t was summer now; bright, beautiful
summer, with the birds singing, and the
flowers covering the ground, and seeming
the air with their perfume.
But he was not alone now, nor did the
little girl steal near on tiptoe, fearful OF be-
ing heard. She was seated by his side,
and his arm was round her, and she look
ed ur into his face, and smiled as she
whispered: 1.-The first evening OF our
lives we were ever together was passed
here; we will spend the first evening oi
our welded life in the same quiet. happy
place." And he drew her closer TO him
as she spoke,
The summer is gone, and the autumn;
and twenty more summers and autumnS
have passed away since that evening, II
in the cid church-yard.
: A Young man, on bright moonlight
night, comes reeling through the little
white gate, and stumbling over the graves
He shouts, and he sings, and is presently
followed by others like unto himself, o
worse. So, they all laugh at the dark so
lemn head of the yew tree. and throw
stones up at the place where the moon ha
$ silvered the boughs.
Those same boughs are again sllveret
! bv the moon, and they droop over his mo
theirs grave. There is little stone whicl
: bears this inscription:
f CHER HEART BRAKE IN SILENCE.
But the silence of the church-yard
n now broken by voice-not of the yout
nor voice Of laughter and ribaldry.
r "My son! dost thou see this grave? an
dost thou read the record in anguish
L whereof may come repentance?
'Of what should Irepent!" answers tn
son; sand why should my young ambitlo
.e for fame relax in its strength because m
mother was old and weak!"
!. 0Is this indeed our son?'' says the fatl
er, bending in agony over the grave OF n
i'd beloved.
81 can well believe am not;" exclair
" eth the youth. SIT is well that you ha'
brought me here to say so. Our natur
es are unlike; our courses must be opposit
Your way lieth here-mine yonder!'
So the son left the father kneellng
the grave.
Again a few years are passed. 1t
winter, with roaring wind and thu
gray fog. The graves in the church-ya
are covered with snow, and there are gr'
icicles in the church-porch. The WI
now carries swathe of snow along
tops Of the graves, as though the '.sheei
dead" were at some melancholy play; a
bark! the icicles fall with crash and ]
gle, like solemn mockery Of the echo
the unseemly mirth of one who is n
coming to his final rest.
There are two graves near the old y
tree; and the grass has overgrown the
A third is close by; and the dark earth
each side has just been thrown up.
bearers come; with heavy pace Il
move along; the coffin heaveth up
down, as they step over the interven
graves.
Grief and old age had seized upon
father and worn out his life, and pre-
ture decay soon seized upon the son,
onawed away his vain ambition, and
Useless strength. till he prayed to be DO
not the way yonder that was most oppc
to his father and his mother, but even
same way they had gone--the way w
leads 10 the Old Church-yard Tree.
Blitz Outdone.