The weekly Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1854-1861, 1855-07-28

HrfE Ersat H4E.r
WHERE, Earth are thy honest o, could find
One like my childhoods where my baby heart
Listed is morning impulse, and went forth
very-fool in its simplicity,
Yet happy as twas simple-could find
One that had hearth like that gather'd to,
When l first shouted to my father's call,
And wept upon the knees of her who bare
And nursed me in my nothingn ,ss-could
Find home that had definition now,
Like that which saw me lifting into prime,
And daShing years aside mpatently,
As spirit-mad for manhood-O, how far,
: How tireless would make my pilgrimage,
Z To fhd such alter plaeei l would lay down
Myselfin oH'ring on its holy stoneI
And glory in my sacrin,e! I'D weep
Those tears that have no words-as, when boy,
Iwater'd the glad hearth with. Iwould bend,
As did my infant and unpractis'd knees
To that low music ofparentai prayer,
Whlchrose, as shadows ofthe morn or eve
Or brake or gather'd on the cluster dheads
That vei'd them to the voice.-.Home and its songs
o! how the echo of those beings comes,
Who made that home and music-who gave God
The tribute Of their white spirits who pour'd
Their mingled melody in cadences
~ That ask'd for mercy, while they sung ofjoy!
Homeland my sisters song! They cannot die
The mem'ry, nor the sound-for theyare link'd
With that fine bond ofImmortality,
Whose quick electric life speaks sparklngly
hegolden circle round! OF could Ihear
That music Of my childhood-cOuld weep
As wept then, when hallow'd cries went up
Unto the Father, to whom jubilee
o, Ascends not with th' acceptance ofthe strain
Breath'd in hush'd paintveness, I'd say farewell,
Ye anthems ofthe world!-ye thunder sounds
or city or the sea!-giye me but this
E The lowly harmonies OF hearth and home,
As they ask entrance ut the gate ofGod,
From the lips of thidren music strung with prayer
Ihave heard men tell Of their fatherland,
As something it did fever them to think
oreven dream of. They would shake their heads,
And sigh, and answerin half utter'd prayer,
That Heaven would keep them exilesifyou spake
ofcountry, and the beauty of the wales
That fenc'd your home, and heard your infancy,
In its first tshoutings. They were pallid men,
Who spake but sparingly-and that with oaths,
3 As sthough they own'd these souls by which the!
swore,
Or knew that God whom they'd unsanctify
In every curling of their thankless lips!
I have heard others laugh, as have wept
To tell this tale of ofboyhood-the old gate,
The well-the pathway-and the silent wood
The slow smoke lazing through the quiverng air
The hum OF waters, and the call of birds
As though these tales were visions ofa brain
Mad with some gentle influence, that the world
own'd not, save in its children, Its fools.
But are notsuch its fools-thesc harden ID men,
That In such traitorous mood fors%ear Tire fount
Whence they took life-the bubling fount that play
In an unfaillng echo to the voice,
Tho tiny joyousness ofmorning years!
Where-what is memory? fthere be q heat
In these encastled bosoms, can 1t be
1t has forgot those pulses that were heard
With its first intimatons-the quick beart
That Nature sounded, ere the 6snd of Shame
Woke 1t to riot in its citadel?
OF mover with the great heart and the good
Can minglo this forgetfulness-it comes
But over treas'notus spirits, that see light
In what to Virtues darkness-spirits damn'd
To that paralysis which is but Death
To the high. soul'd-the bravery Of earth