Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1855-01-03
JANUARY 8,
THE DEAD WIFE.

.,n ,ozcd upou her loved form moving p
I.,a living hriobness through all the space i
Of YOUR little dom's'o heaven. lou loved o
... ovos that grew brighter and brighter Il
al -, ,,,e.lashes as she ministered ~ e
,,o holn,os. rant, Of those little living stars J
A., rfro 1als household angels about the f
L,,soh,1d tl,oue and you loved her warm y
80 bo,ds no that have laid in your palms 7
o,ne1;rglc oginglya and so trustingiyl But J
-. hr;,ht eyc has now lost its brightness in I
-. 5;o, clouds &c deaths dimness. the warm {
81 and the soft hand has lost it's warmth !
,nd its .ot caresses and it lies on her bosom !
o,oered AID icy. You stand over her and
,,,rs .ach ~ you never felt burning in your
ovc. b.fr', fall on her pale face and paler
Inns. o}r rhich the rose Of health once bloom-
al ha.insly. BY and by, when you have
,onc again and again to the bed where they
have hid her, and turned back the rustling
linen and gazed and wept over her pale face
until YOU feel that the pale face viii always
be before you, by and 10y a coffin is brought.
smooth, dark, glistening coffin. And you
ta4pve in your heart for the man who pre-
r1rel il 40 nicely for your wife to Sleep the
bug sleep in, since YOU reason with yourself
that she must be carried away from you
foyereri Tire good women that have re-
mtiped with you TO comfort you with good
words, ho y-comforting and truc-such as
they have found in the Bible, they, the good
womcu-your aunt, your dearold graudmoth.
err and the good old neighbor lady whom all
love, they gently lay your lost wife in the
smooth, dark, glistcning coffin, and SO ten
Derby do they lay the snowy folds of the rust.
ling shroud about her that you love them for
their kind Offices as you never loved them be-
fore. And the night and the watchers m
You sit y little way off aud gaze on the scene.
There is the cofincd dead with a bright watch
candle blazing Mt the head and at the foot.
A good friend whispers in your ear that you
had better seek rest on your pillow. You
suffer yourself to be led away. Poor man
mourner! you need rest for long nights
and hoped nc the bedside Of your loved and
dying wife. But you cannot rest ; the pale
face, and that smile lingering around her
cold lips that never changes for another
smile, are before you and you cannot sleep.
The tick of the clock on the mantle and the
cautious football Of the watchers, all echo in
your ear with painful distinctness, and you
feel Ms if sleep would no more close your
eyes 50 full Of tears.
You stand Ivy her coffin and the Past rush,
es in aud crowds your memory. Oh! how
its cherished pictures seem to dance almost
tauntingly before your bewildered mind
1t seems that the Past is a golden fringed path.
way, where the bright sunheams glinted
among beds Of beautiful flowers, while the
best of stars hang in the bright blue above
glitteringly. Your soul, so weary with grief
would gIauiy tnger ~ TIE Do..uofr-l D~~l ~~e
blot out the reality Of the gloomy Future and
the bitter Present. You remember the first
buildings Of your youthful love, of how /
bloomcd and then ripeued. You remember
many merry markings you have had in her
company, Of flower gatherings along thu
meadow green where the brooklet sang a mel
ry tune to your wanderings. You remembe
her noble, tender heart-her gentleness-he
purity her bcauty-her generous love. Oh
you would love now to linger in the wilder
ness of the Past.
BIT size is dead :!
The heart that has throbbed ten thOusan
beats against YOUR " bosom, throbs I
more: hut cold and %lifelcss, it lies in IL
gloom Of the grave, for they have carried HI
away. The hands you SO loved to press NJ
kiss untiriugIy, are folded, white and col
hcneath the coffin iii and the red sod OF Il
vale. The very heart that was given yo
and whose every pulsation measured an etc
nifty Of love for you, and you only, now Ii
beneath your feet. The flowers you DO
loved, and over which she always bent with
smile, in turn now bend over her in teal
weeping dew drops from their fragrant peta
that the grass beneath which she sleeps M,
always be kept beautiful even as she "
beautiful. And you love the flowers t
helping you weep.
Your home-how desoldte! There is l
fond arm thrown over your shoulder noS
no boaming face to turn up smilingly or pc
sively to the speaking eye Of love-no 70
Lip to tremble and murmur "Oh! IN
band, it is 50 sad-so sad, yet be Of go
cheer ="
You wonder at the mysterious hush II
reigns in every room. Footsteps, once so
miliar, you strain your hearing to catch,
they and their last echo have e-g
gone away in company with the dead T.
light Greens in at the doors and at the W
dows, and you look around for the we'll kno'
smile that used to greet you. That SIN
has He'd from your dreary home forever ;
went away when the dead went, lighting
dark pathway to the grave! And you sit
your desolate home and remember and
member, and while you remember the
clock on the mantle ticks-and ticks-a
teks-and It's old familiar bell rings out Gle
ly the hours as they die-oh! it was mu
when she could hear it with you! Now, al
every stroke Of the bell and each faint ticl
giveth out seems n knell on the weary wat
es you sat at her bedside and saw the dimr
ofdeath gathering on her face so lovely.
Day aud night the old clock repeats
same old story. Other tales il telleth to