Kenosha tribune and telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1855-1855, 1855-06-07

threshold of the better land, and it lured he
into dying and into Heaven
/" No bed OF languishng- no wastin.
day by day. but with all her undiminishet
dover of loneliness, she was waited ava,
out of our sight" CTR
"And God hath strown such flower.
along oar paths-howers ofimmortal beau
ty, to guide and win US on to Heaven. The,
blossom in every truth-they bloom in cv,
cry parliamentary are fragrant here to
day."
The speaker ended; there was move
ment in the little group, as all pressed round
to take one last look of the face, whereou
Death had set his seal. andth slowly they
took up their dead, and bore her hither.-
Another song was sung; another petition
breathed; and earth hid her forever from
our eyes.
Years ago, that rose tree was planted be-
side her silent pillow, but the fingers of az
lection long since forgot their office There
Martha Was laid, but she is not there to-
day. Her beauty has kindled, this many
summer, in the roses bloom; has budded
in the maple; has foateI away in the cloud
Nature found her out, hidden and hushed
as she was, in the grave, and nature had
need OF her and claimed the cast-oif gar
ments she had worn, and made of it beau
tiful array for the summer wear of flowers.
Within that little fence in the corner, sur
mounted with urns of black, an infant hope
WAS laid. A robin, we see, has built nest
therein, but the song has fled. and it is
empty now. Frail emblem of this life we
cling to--the homes we build--the hopes
we cherish, and the time we stay.
Strange tho it seems, even here, among
these circling forests. does dumb Ambition
sleep, that neverswayed sword. Romance
was buried where that six feet furrow lies;
a broken heart, where leans that dim, gray
stone.
There lie whole family, side bv side !;
"they were lovely in their lives, and in their
death they were not divided" How like
the outline of a harp, seem those dimin-
lshing graves--a greas silent harp, dumb
beneath the pulseless fingers of mortality.
Every sunken mound had once history
and every one tear. But the weepers,
the most of them, have lain down with the
wept, and "tears are wiped away from all
eyes,
VIII a Railway train ever shrek through
this silent acre, do you think? Or will they
ever bear away the persisted beauty by the
basket full, and build brick blocks thereon?
Shall the surge of restless and encroaching
life, wash away these old tablets. and cast
them by the road side, the Boulders of the
Tomb? Or will it lie beneath the early
and the latter rain, for ages yet. while gold
engrain and waving corn are rustling in the
summer wind around it-alone, of the land
scape, desolate and dumb, in solemn wait
ing when that better time when
Spring shall revisit the Wondering urn,
And new day shall dawn over the night of the
grave.
"What need Of the changetess story
Which time has so often told,
The Spectre that follows glory.
The canker that comes with gold
That wisdom, strength and honor
Must fade like the far sea oam,
And death is the only winner?--
But, friends, we are going home p,
"Springs have gone by in sorrow,
The summers were grieved away,
And ever we feared morrow,
Aud ever we blamed day
In depths which the searcher sounded,
On hills which the hgh-heart clomh,
Have trouble and toll abounded;
But, friends, we going home"