American telegraph. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1851-1851, 1851-10-02
AMERICAN TELEGRAPH
For the American Telegraph.
THE GROVE.

For the American Telegraph.
THE GROVE.
GAN owRE TRUE TALE OF LOVE"
BY JOEL AUSTIN.
know grove, a summer grove,
Where midday sunbeams never fall;
BY Nature consecrate TO love-
Fragrant and cool and silent all.
Silent, save when, from overhead,
Or right, or left, or all around,
From his mysterious leafy bed
The robins welcome notes resounds
Or soothing drone Of idle bee,
Or insect call, or, sweeter still, u.f..
Pcrvades the ear, continuously,
The music of gurgling rill.
Here, in this grove, when yonder sun
Sinks wearily in Wauba's tides
sit, and fearful, think of one
One whom l love DER all beside
One adore-but dare not name,
Whom tits crime to think upon
Yet oh! love her all the same,
And must till hope and life are gone!
And could tell-yes! ! could tell,
How, once, 1t was not wrong to love;
And how we threaded many dell,
And how we haunted many grove;
And how listened eagerly
Breathless, enraptured-to each tone;
Only betraying by a sigh
How deep loved how peace had flown.
And, ah /! / trusted. She deccived2
MOI mol such wrong she could not do!
saw, her gentle bosom heayed,
And felt-oh! joy-she loved me tool
Yet neither spake-we kncp twas vain
vain, yet soul-entrancng Dream
Still, oft we met, and oft again
Thought silently renewed the theme.
We parted; DER the restless sea,
For many lonely day and night,
My white-winged bark seemed painfully
To bear me from my Elias sight.
Love yields to time, nor space; nor aught
Can e'er subdue his latent fire;
Mine was not that by Fancy caught
From the low embers of Desire!
Thus, when long, weary months had past,
Mid scenes full fair and strange to view,
And when my forest shores at last
Returned, this burning heart was true.
Columbia's white sand beach arose,
Like snow-cloud, upon the sea;
And all around forgot their woes,
And sang and smiled-Sarc only me.
ONE told me ofa SIRE that long
Had thought him cold on foreign strand;
And too, the good mans stirring wrong,
Wrought him by one who craved his land;
And how he meant--I marked his smile
To right that wrong, and claim-a bride.
OGodl this marble soul, the while,
Would jog with him-but rdinly tried
/. daother came, with eager word
OF hopes that beckoned on the shore
The moaning waves were all heard,
Their voice was melody no more!
Yet could turn my morbid thought
From Memory's engulphing deep,
Aud on this shadeless brow sought
What cause could make my dark soul weep I;
For, as his tones fell needless on
The calm, the chill, unliving air,
His look met mine-and swift were gone
The icy fetters of despair;
And down this flushed and sunken check
As welcome as the Summer flood
Coursed the hot tears, and seemed to speak
Sweet soothing TO my maddening mood.
The face ! saw was as mine own
Or, as mine own before the kiss
OF unayaiing love was known
To seal the death, as birth, of bliss,
Ere we had parted-I would part
Zen noio, in memory, from the pastl
Peace anguished soul-nor writhing start!
Thou shalt have rest, sweet rest, at last!
His days were many as were mine,
But sunlight shone from morn to eve
The heart he wooed a sheltered shrine
The winds of fate might never grieve;
While minc-alasl what need 10 tear
From the barred chamber of my SOUL
The thwarted love, that, ranking there,
Aroused would scorn my stern control!
His rich brown hair, his arching brows.
His hazel eye-the reyy same;
lie could not tell hoD SoJTolc ploughs
The pensirc cheek through ONE dear name!
wept, wept, TO see the light
Within his eyes that erst was mine
What bird had shriekcd on my birthnightl
What star Of love had ceased to shlnel
'AsHISGToN, d c., March, 1919.