The weekly north Iowa times. [volume] (McGregor, Iowa) 1857-1867, 1858-11-24
For the North Iowa Times.
1T MIGHT HAVE BEEN"

w H0s = &C PoAS"S VI a0A hOPC"S "uaS 6h~"sO
"f past joys, and how many Of our youthful
aspirings arc swallowed in "what might have
been" Gazing o'sr the green fields of memo.
ry. how We weep over the withered flowers
Disappointment scathing, blighting hand hath
crushed-werp: but in vain, for higher power
than mans guides the stern unyielding hand Of
fate, and when life fercest gales arc past, and
he pauses to gaze backward. LIE may only with
anguished heart, sadly whisper. 1T might have
been! -
Upon yonder pine-covercd hill, stands little
cottage, and methinks the stars look more
lovingly upon it than upon the surrounding
scene, and the pale moonbcams steal within
upon the oaken floor in soit, silvcry lines, re-
vcaling . curtained bed whose dimity cover
might rival the purest snow in its whiteness,
and a table upon which lies an open Bible
And in the room too, there knelt fair young
girl, on whose head scarce seventeen summers
had passed. and methought from the wild
anguish Of her heart shc knew naught of life's
6ercer tempes's. that sorrow had never before
frowncd 40 darkly on her as now. All alone
was she struggling with this first great sorrow
The cool breeze, laden with the delicious
aroma Of flowers, softly lift the brown trrsses
from the brow only t. reveal the drops OF
beaded sweat, that first great agony had wrong
from her very soul. All the wild anguish ol
her wo'nan's heart seems concentrated in tha,
one prayer, to be resigned. Oh God resign.
ed. when all hope was dying! When the idol
to which her young hearts purest affections had
silently bowed. was torn from its gilded throne
and crushed, hopes were like spectral dreams
hauting the inner chambers of her soul. Those
girlhood dreams had grown in her young soul
and gladened it as corruscations Of light emana.
ting from the throne Of God. Crushed and
dying, now they lay upon her young hearts al
tar and tho it be like parting her heart strings
down deep in her heart shall bs hid her grief
Again will the fair maiden 90 forth in the worlt
and the careless, busy crowd may note that he.
cheek has palsr grown and that the deep sigh,
are bursting from her aching heart, but they
will never know how. in the midnight hour, sh.
found deep grief in her soul like the sworn
in the bud.' and the sepulchre of her SOL,
tenanted.
Years have rolled on! Years that on al
things have written. change! Years that hav,
cut down the youth in his bloom, the agee
with silvery hairs as we'll as the maiden ant
matron. Years too that have revealed new
hopes and also blighed ones.
Alone in the library of his splendid mansion
is seated middle aged man. Care, more tha,
time, has scattered those silvery hairs DER hi
head aud planted the deep burrows upon til,
broad open brow. As he sits musing, memor,
brings him back again to the cot upon the hill
the green sward. the sound Of youthful feet an,
a loving heart. OF vows uttered in trutbfulnes
sAsn' but vows that were broken, little dream
ing Of the grief of future years. All! now h,
thinks how gold won him from her side hov
ne had wasted the pure first love of her nobl
maiden heart, and cast her from him for 4,
guided toy mere play-thing, Of which hi
soul his already sickened and again the tid
of first affection rolls back upon his heart, an,
the strong min bows his head and weeps, a
from his ansuishcd soul he cries, ooh God
it might have bcen'
Not now. tho, for the village churchy ard ha
received another inmate. and the marble slal
bears the inscription. "Gone Home" Th
green sward has grown on the noble heart al,
death has silled its anguished bea.ings
All! me, it's we'll for US all some sweet hopes es
Buried, far, far beneath human eyes,
And when tho hereafter angel may
Roll from its gate, the stone away,
The saddest strain the angels will sing.
Will be, "Oh! yes it might have been.''
Sheboygan, Wis, Nov. Sth, 1858.