The weekly American banner. (Yazoo City, Miss.) 1855-18??, 1856-09-05
BY MRS. II. e. BATcHELoR.

How calm and bright the summers golden air;
With song and odors sweet the south winds blow, |
The feeting clouds seem angels slumbering there,
Whose dream smiles light the quiet earth below.
Thefes naught in this sweet, tender light to tell
That white-robed angels from the unseen land
Have touched with death whom we loved too uel
And rent the claspings of household band,
That loving hearts are crushed, bounteous light
Forever quenched in dark and starlcss night.
Oh that the balmy air soft blown from heaven,
The sunlight flashing o er the distant nil,
Could wake to music heart strings coldy riven,
And brighten eyelids now SO dark and still,
For she has gone, the beautiful, the young, :.
So rich in joy, and expectation bright,
Gone ere the sulying breath of life had flung 8
One cloud to mar her mornings rosy light.
Dear Maggie sleeps like seuptured marble fair
While sobs and tears blend with the voice of PRAYER
Her hands like folded lilies softly lay
Above her heart whence pulse and life have fown;-
Like some pale droopin bud Of beautious May
She lies with shadows Ger her sweet face blown
Her gentle voice is sadly hushed on earth
A voice whose tones were sweetest notes of song,
A gushing melody of love add mirth,
That walked affections holy, deep and strong;
Yet now the echo, lingering in our ears,
But melts to memory, tenderness, and tears.
Sad is the home whence her young life hath fled
There griefs dark shades like spectre footsteps fall
Joy, liaht and bloom are with the sleeping dead,
! And tears, but tears within that silent hall;
For she, whese beauty to the dust hath gone,
| Was lks singing bird amid the flowers,
Her step all mrth and dance, her gladdened tone,
| The Joyous song of summers brightest hours;
The very ripples of her shining hair
Enriched with golden sweep the loving air.
But now the flowers she hallowed in her play,
One silken tress cut from her lovely head,
With books and toys, are sadly laid away;
For plain they speak, ''the gentle child is dead
Her vacant chair, the dress she oft has worn,
The band that bound her wealth of shining hair
The very spot where every night and morn
Z She knelt to lisp her holy chldlike prayer
Are treasured joys yet filled with bitter pain,
That cause the tears to gush from heart and brain
The father feels that nc'er on earth again
Her hand in his to loves warm clasp may thrill
Her loving voice like some eolian strain,
Comes not to charm his ear; It's hushed and still
The mother strives to say, "Thy will be DONE"
To crush the tears back to her heart unshed,
) Yet wildly longs to hear the missing tone,
For she Is human, and sweet Maggie's dead.
The kiss of Death fell on her darling's brow
Yet think! an angel calls her mother now.
Fold back the ringlets from the dear ones head,
Strew simmer blooms above the pallid breast,
Then breath prayer, while burning tears shet
And gently hear her to her dreamless test.
e For shei is thine, Almighty God, Thy hand
e With endless bliss and Joy has crowned her nov
e She dwells in heaven amid that radient band,
Chrst's seal is set upon her youthful brow,
h A beauteous bud culled from her parents love,
n To blossom in the Fathers house above.
- FRANKFORT, Ky.