Smyrna times., 1857-01-14
'a'i Written for the Smyrna Times,
THINKING OF HOME. A REVERE.
BY RAMBLING JOE.

All tits bitter cold to-night-the winds sigh
aloud without, as if weeping for the loved and
lost things of earth, and | am left alone to
while away these dismal hours Yon stranger
cares naught for me: it seems, | am bound by
no ties to him-and he shares neither in my
moments of pleasure or seasons of sadness ;
and, in this dreary moment seek not TO gaze
upon the present, nor, in anticipation, to view
the future; bur, will muse DER the past =
and, now, am pleased to see the joys, the in
Vulnerable delights of" HOME, SWEET HOME 20
So, strangers, disturb me not-let me rest in
solitude; let me dream of the old hearthstone.
Twas here, that the light of love and friendship
ilumined every prospect, and transmitted all
icy flakes of sadness and gloom into genial
droppings of lustrous joy y;-'twas here, the en-
tire walks of life, to ME, seemed decorated with
beauteous flowers, and where, in fancy saw
upon each tree, harbinger of Love, constantly
warbling its favorite lay. | saw not, here, the
GOODNESS of an unkind world, nor drank its bitter
cup. No, no!--Around the fireside, in the
midst Of kind friends, life's teeming cup was
filled with pleasure, and gay hopes graded the
distant walks and clothed my future fields with
living green,"-whilst, there l perceived a
mothers cares, heard mothers prayers, re-.
ceived fathers counsel, and enjoyeda brothers
company and the lightsome songs of sister
dear, whose voices, so we'll remembered, yet in
my ears like notes of music ring. The quaint old
haunts of my youth, too, are plainly laid out,
and the wild flowers plucked in halcyon days
are all fresh before me; and now, beholding, in
Imagination, the bright countenances of the
loved ones at Home, its pleasures and fond en-
dearments, and all its hallowed associations,
are seen in colors the most refulgent. Fond
relatives and cherished friends are there grouped
together in concourse sweet, whilst upon the
radiant scene all nature smiles,-'tis an ethereal
garden, ornamented with pearly walks, vigorous
arbors, and fragrant shrubbery of SURPRISING
beauty. But, alas! the flowers here only bloom
to die; aye, the choicest one of this domestic
group-our mother-is dead, or transplanted
rather, into realms of everlasting bliss to livt
forever. And, DER the lonely resting place o
her dissolvedremans, tonight, methinks hea
the wild winter winds mourning a plaintiv,
dirge,-reminding me of the cravings of Dis
ease, the rayages of Death, and the consequen
uncertainties of this present world, the separa
ton of friends, and the sudden blighting o
luminous prospects; and, though lamenting tn
losses sustained by the passing away of kindre
and friends, and, it may be, doomed to partak
of the inhospitalisy of an uncharitabe world
yet the Rambler wears not garb of dsspou
dency; but, amid all his bereavements is reu
dered buoyant by the soul-cheerng reAectio
that the loved ones lying in the cold, cold grave
are only sleeping to awake and dwell in pure
. cline where flowers ne'er wither, and an ete
, nal spring abides; being assured that the al
A versities of this life are all transitory, and thu
he can meet those departed in the land celesti
Q "a HOME IN HEAVEN, where
b "Sickness and sorrow, pain and death,
e Are fe!t and fear'd no more"
It iSmyrna, Jan. $40 p. NJ ..4