Nashville daily patriot. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1855-1857, 1856-02-06

they wande ed through the woods in search they could
the first time, wh9se notes their anxious and excited i'm
sgnaticn syllsbled into pa-I'0, ma ma, Che present
Quichua Of the hird) sup2s The spanish heard
Ibis story, and with thar religious poetic Of thought,
which seems peculiar 10 this people, called the bird The
Lost Soul "--liEhNDoS.
Ia what frerzed CRY
Up the lone forest aisles comes sadly waiing,
Now quick ard sharp now chOksd with agony,
As sight and sense were fAKingi
Thefsr stars co 'dly smiled.
Down through the arches Of the twilight wood,
Where sire AID mother SC ught their child
In the dark'ning solitude. -
And low the phantom wind
Came stealing DER tie hills with ghOsily feet,
But paused not in its fight to bear one Kind,
s2h echo-shrin and sweet.
Der them The giant trees
All proudly wailing tossed their arms on hiab,
Yet no loved baby-vOiee from midst OF these
Answered their broken cry.
But one sad, pip ng note,
That strangely syllabled Attended name,
As seemed its oadences 10 fall, or hoat,
From bough above them came.
~ The mother started wild,
As that strange sound the forest 70 iage stirred,
Then has,ened 10 the sire, she knew her child
In that lone spirit bird.
No word the father spake;
His face was ghastly, and its haggard lines
Lay stern and rigid, like some frozen lake
o'ershadowed by its pines.
shudderiug, she st-Ove to speak,
Once more in natures strong appe ling tones
10 supplicate her child-there shrek
That died IN heavy means.
The night came dOwn,-.aar
Was heard the hoarse, deep bsyiug Of the storm,
And thander-clouds around captive star
In black battaons fOm.
Now, all the mighty wood
Has voices ike the sullen sounding sea,
While onward rolls the deep, majestic Hood
His surges solemny.
The massy foliage rocks
Slow swaying to the wind and failing fast
Embatted GA $ that braved thousand shocks
Are bending to the blast
AnderinsOn trOpic bloom
Lies heaped upon the sward as though wave
Of Summer sunset streams within the gloom
Had POUNDS yerdanI grave.
Down came the rushing rain,
But far perchance, where handlers never roll
The bird had fown the pare. is called in vain
Upon the wand ring soul.
Then feebIy mid the maze,
of 'wildsring storm, the fset4he cabin sought,
Oft turning back TO search with blinded gaze,
For that which not.
True, true-the tale is old,
And fal Of sorrow the tradition hoary,
Yet daily lfe's unsrtten annals hold
sierner, sadder sorry
Oh. hear We not the ery,.s
That every hour sends up where thick life presses,
That shrieks from lowest depths to God on high
From Lies great Wilderness?
It the cry Of Woman,
And hers the real lost and wandering soul,
Seeking AMID the god-like, yet the human,
To find her destined goal
Like glacier Of the North,
Her pure and shining spirit braves the sea
CT Life and Action,-drfiipg dsifting forth
On waves Of Destiny.
deep calling unto Deep"
How raves the by the tempest tossed
Perchunce her onward course the soul may keep,
Perchance Ills wrecked, or lost.
Peichance some other heart
In pride of Being standng firm and free,
May call, Oil seeker Of the better part
Cine vanderer, to mel"
Alas tbat dulcet tone
Is but the no low music Of shell
That mocks the Ocean; yet, the pilgrim lone
1t wins as By spell.
The dream, the dream is past
Perchance some careless word some fancied wrong,
The soul is driven forth-ohl woe the last,
The weaker by the strong.
From her closed lips
Goes up,--ye, seems it her unspoken prayer
Falls back again upon her heari,-alone
To sink and perh there.
And tn, n her ,prt pants
Beneath the heat and burden OF the day,
Still strug. ling on amid the yutrre wants
That make her heart their prey.
stir to It's source of rain
cingng most fonlly and in holy trust
Pouring ltsworshiF in worse than vain
Idolatry on dustl
Like the great organ rocks
That rise 0rinoco's distant shore,
81 sends rich music DER the wave that mOcEs,
Yet her morel
From The stin ornament
star drops sparkles-and almost before
The eye note is gOne,-with Chaos bleut
Its briIIancy is Ger.
And thus with thee,--unhnown,
UnrecogniEed, and lost in earthly cline,
Thy 'vldered soul may wander. vnd alone
Pass from The shores Of Time.
Yet far Ia yon blue dome,
Where dwell tbespirits Of the dear departed,
There thou art SHOWN and they will welcome home
An angel broken hearted.
Then courage, weary one!
Work while thou nsy'st,-for though thy spirit river
Is fading like iouotaia in the sun,
Exhaled, It reaches HEAyiS!
FoREsr HOME Dec 1875.