The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1856-11-05
GBoiee M(istellaup.
From the Chicago Evening Journal
SWEET DAY"
BY BENJAMIN F. TAYLOR.

4'Oo 6uSA CdUDdLuS as we nave nOl
with no Saturday night for threshold
n was the poet thinking of; not day wit
! a railroad running through the middle
it. and an engine shrieking up and dow
from morning bell to vespers.
Neither wasit the gray, grim day tt
Puritans made of it, who, and with som
!, small show of truth, the Westministe
Review declares, invented the sin
g Sabbath breaking, but just dear, ole
fashioned Sunday.
Such an one-it was longer ago tha
yesterday-shines like star just read
to set, out of the far Past, of which
seems to US we are writing out of tn
fuilness of our own heart, in our owl
words and not another's,
Sweet day, so pure. so calm, so bright.
The bridal of the earth ard sky
And now, as we think, the fear pos
sesses US that such days have fallen ou
of the calendar; that the gold devil
has got into this Eden of Time, and fig
leaves and apron makers obtained full
sway iu Paradise.
Very beautiful used to be the ap
proaches to that Sunday in those old
| days. The tide of passion and the glow
| Of ambition, went down with Saturday s
sun, and life's fever was followed by q
sleep. The blacksmith's bellows grew
breathless, and his hammer lay silent on
the anvil; the ftful tinkling of bell
denoted the last wanderer of the flock
safe in the fold the mills "big wheel''
stood still, and the upper and lower
sections of its battcned door we're closed;
the " ironing" of the old fashioned
mother was aired and folded, and laid
away; the last loaf was Withdrawn from
! the glowing cavern of the old brick oven;
the boys had come back from the creek,
their brown feet twinkling winter in the
grass, and their damp hair shade dar-
| ker than it went; light glirnmers dimly
| through the great Windows of the church;
young men and maidens go by in pairs,
and pretty soou, through the shadowy
air, there floats the blended voices that
we used to love, in Windham, Near, and
Silver street. "Dundee's wild, warb-
ling measures rise," and sweet old
Corinth falls upon the ear; the moon
surmounts the woods, and rides mo-
ment like ship upon the leafy wvaes Of
June, then bears away for the blue
water" of Gods Egean, and over all
that scene and night it rules.
The dew grows radiant and restless
in the grass beneath it, as if earth acre
our mother, and she really breathcd
in the mists of gray, that With the will
ows fringe the stream of silver; and the
memory of that hour is gold.
Morning comes, and with it the robins
song-they did not eat the robins then
little flock of white clouds grazes 81
lently in the eastern field of Heaven,
and the hills at the west of US are red
with Days new sacrifice, the first lamb
from its fold of ours. East across the
river-perhaps it will do no harm to
name it-across the Black River--stand
in majesty, rank after rank, the eternal
woods, and among their coronals, and
wreathed with leaves, there always lie
in such June mornings, three silver
clouds, three breaths of beauty. from
three forest lakes beneath. They al
ways seemed to US three syllables of
thanksgiving the Sun discovered on
their nightly way to God.
The Lombardy poplars, in long array,
that seem forever going over Clinton's
hill, wear crowns of flame; and there,
with sentry Lombards round about,
amid wilderness of woods, hard by the
river, in the Valleys heart, lies the
sweet village, the sweeter Day did find.
That was haunt for Sunday, and might
have been it's homestead.
There under the risen sun, the village
lay in Sabbath slumber. The blinds of
the two windows of the store, the eyes
of commerce, unspeculative, were fast
closed; the village school and village
mill mad grown murmurless together
not a wheel ratified down the street; not
a shout or boisterous song hoated up
the valley; it was six o'clock, and
Sunday morning
And so it wore away till the hour of
worship, then over the village, over the
cleariDgs, over the woods, the music of
the bell fioated all abroad, and from the
hills there came an answer back, and
voices of bells from among the trees
And then from the country round they
came, on horseback, by twos-there
were pilii0ns then-on foot in groups,
in wagons by families, and now and then
a chaise, and went up--for it was set
upon hill-to the House of the Lord
in company. Guiltless of adornings,
there it stood, grown gray in time and
storm, its spire like a solemn finger,
pointing ever unto heaven, its pulpit,
like a swallows nest, fast to the wall,
midway 'tgixt. earth and sky; it's seats
naked as Truth, for the sluxuries Of re-