Eaton Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1843-1856, 1855-11-08
Vol. IL. No. FL.
She 10 Dying.

/ The following is snblimely beautiful and
naiheic, and could only have been dictated
by heart that has experienced all The bitter
ness that is herein expressed. Who is the
, author, we know moi, but suspect it is an sx-
tract from some book. II anybody can read
il without moisture in the eye aud stones in
the throat, they are worthy OF Marble
SIZE IS DYING Hush she is dying. The
sunlight streams through the plate glass win.
| dOwS, The room is fragrant with The sweet
breath Of the Southern nowers-large milk
white African liIieS-roseS nightingale would
s,oop 10 worship Cape jesSamines, and
cimeliaS, with their large glossy leaves
Through the open Easement steals he faint
musical tinkleS of playing fountains and the
light tempered pleasantly by rose curtains Of
embroidered SATIN, kindle. up gorgeous paint
| ings with halo as bright as o rainbow. 1t is
as il fresher sunshine were falling earthward
on the lower Of beauty.
The canary sings in his gilded cage-her
canary and the mocknig bird raises his clear
| no'e higher aud higher on on the perfumed
air
Why do you cench YOUR hands till The nails
draw the rich, rosy blood through the thin,
qniverng skin Why do you grind your
ZEE h together, and hiss between that one
and that lady, with her head upon her bosom,
is fair as any dream vision OF the painter.
| Surely, nothing could be puier than that
broad high brow nothing brighter than those
golIen curlS.
And she loves you too All Yes, any one
can read that in the deep viole: eyes, "a sed
so tenderly 10 your own. All ! that is ii your
young wife loves you.
She linked 10 yours the existence Of An an.
gel, when she knelt beside you at the mar.
rIaPe alter, aud placed her hand in yours.
! For tweIve long, golden sunny months, nr
a NIGEL has walked or sal by you. side, or seIpi
| in your bosom.
You know 1t M mortal woman ever made
your heart bow before purity 80 divine
| No earthly embrace ever filled your soul
with The clory from beyond the stars no
| ear 'Ilsmlle ever shnne so unchangingly above
all such noiSome things aS your earhwormS
call care and trouble. She is an angel, and
other angels hsve been singing 10 her in The
| long days of this pleasant June time.
"llnSh," you say, but you can't shut ont
the anthem notes Of Heaven f;om those un
sealed ears Louder, higher, swell the hymns
OF the Seraphs brighter grows the smile on
your young wiie's lips.
She whispers, "DeareSt, I'm almost home,
and you will come by and by, and am going
TO ask God 10 bless YOU p But you cannot
bear il-you turn away and the big .ears gath
CT n your eyes.
Yon had held her on your bosom all dsy-
all night are you 'Ired. But you can't an,
Swer. CIoSer-rIoser you clasp the slight, fair
figure painfully YOU press your lips TO the
cold br1w-Canie is dead.
What is it 10 you that The sunshine is bright
wha that its cheerful rays fall on the broad
land What IS it-now that she can walk
on Them no more ? And what is death her
death Few people knew her, no vice pres
ldent must he chosen 10 fill her place no
nation will raise monument 10 her memory!
But she was yours great Goo OF ours, your
all
No, yours and God's and your year Of JOY
is over, and She rests on his bosom now in
Heaven.
They have dug grave for her. Spring
| flowers brighten over II and the green grass
smiles with uaSies and voets. You go there,
and sigh and pray, and ask God if you 10 may
come home and when no answer comes, your
! p!oud heart rises up in bitterness, with the
bold, wicked words upon your tongue, you
pause, for your guardian angel looks down
from heaven, and whispers" Hush -