Litchfield enquirer., 1858-07-01
MY FIFTIETH BIRTHDAY. BY MRS. FRANCES D. GAGE.

 Of the clear river, rippling wild,
 That rolled before my fathers door, How long, how very long 'twould be Ere could live out fifty years To think of it oft checked my glee,
 And filled my childish heart with fears. looked at grandma as she sat,
 Her forehead decked with silvery rime, And thought, When am old that Must darn stockings all the time x Must sit in the armchair so,
 A white frilled cap around my face, With dull drab strings, and Ie'er a bow. And keep things always in their place The lines of care, the sigh Of pain, The Hush !' her lips SO oft let fall, Made me wish, O CT and OCT again. never might grow old at all. Yet shc was ever cheerful, and Would oft times join our sport and Inirth; And many play by her was planned Around the winter evening hearth. But then she played not by the brook, She did not gather pretty flowers, She did not sing with merry look, Nor make spring time of the hours So, when she said, one sunny morn, :. You will be old like me- some day,' I.wept like one of hope fprlorn,
 And threw my playthings all away. Re old. like grandma, and not roam The glen in spring, foI v'olets blue, ; Or bring the bright May blossoms home Or pick tlIe stlawbcrri mong tie dew! Be old ! and in the summer time Take weary maps in mid day hours, dfail the Chandlicr trees to climb And shake the ripening fruit in showers Be old? and have no nutting-bees
 Upon the hillside, rusting brown, Or hanp Unt,n the vine fI ,d freps And shout the rich ripe clusters down ! Be old and sit round wintry fires!
 Be fifty have no sliding-spree And hush away all wild desires
 thought t were better not to be. But two score years have glided by,
 With summers heat and winters cold, With sunny hours and cloudy sky,
 Till now TW fifty-now m old. The sun-burnt locks are silvery now; That used to dangle in the wind And eyes are dim, and feet move slow That left my playmates all behind. Spectacles lie upon my nose,7
 But no white fril looks prim and cold; My gray hairs curl-I wear pink bows, do not feel so very old. To play among the pebbles.
 Would love, on that familiar shore, Where once watched the swallows fly The dancing, rppling waters OCT. I'd like to climb the apple tree,
 Where once the spicy sweetning grew, Make grapevine swings, and have a glce But am ffy, 'twould' mt do. I'd like to go a nutting now, And gather voilets in the glen And wreathe the wild flowers round my brow As we'll as Ter did at ten.
 
 I'd like to slide upon the pond,
 To watch the old mill struggling there In icy chains, while all beyond
 Was one broad mirror, cold and glare. I'd like to see the noisy school,
 Let out a-noonng, as of old, Play " Lost Iay glove, and :. Mind the rule ; I hear the cry of Kate and Jane, ,5-8 Of Lottie, Sina, Helen, Sue An, yes ! Ill own it) in between
 Come George, and Dan and William too, I'm fifty, but I'm not sad i;
 see no gloom in ripeiing years My hopes are bright, my spirit glad How vain were all my childish fears! My childish sports, lovei them then; I love to think them over still ~ To shut my eyes, and dream again
 Of silvery stream and woodland hill. But life has pleasures hOlier still
 Than childhood's 5 play, with all it's zest, That, as we journey down the hill, Make each succeeding year the best. Now stalwart men are at my hearth, And |" bonnie lasses' laughing free, That had not lived on this good earth, To love and labor, but for me-, And shall pine for childhood's joys, x, For woodland walks and v,ilets blue, While round me merry girls and boys Are doing what used to do? My days of toil my years of care. Have never chilled my spirits flow, ~' ' Or made one flower of life less fair Than in the spring. time, long ago. The paths I we trod were sometimes rough, And sharp and piercing to my feet But there were dasied walks enough To make it all seem smooth and sweet. Friends that I loved have passed from sight Before me to the spirit home But in the day that knows no night, -- know they Il greet me when come. Hopes that I've cherished, too, were vain; But have lived to feel and know That were life to live O again,
 'Twere better that it should be so. At every winding of the way,
 I've sought for love, and love have given; For love can cheer the darkest day, { And make the poorest home heaven. = U! ye, who re passing down ike me,
 Life's autumn side, be brave and strong, And teach the lispers at your knee
 That fifty years is not 50 tog; That if they would be ever young
 And free from dolorous pain and care, The life-harp must be ever strung With love of duty everywhere. As yiolins in foreign lands,
 Broken and shattered OCT and OCT. When mended and in skillful hands,
 Make sweeter music than before, So, oft the heart, by sorrow torn,
 Gives forth a loftier, clearer song Than that which greeted us at morn, gsss When it was new, and brave, and strong; Father, thank thee for them all,
 These fifty years which now are passed-; o guide me, guard me, till the fall
 Of death my form shall hide at last. Let me in love and kindness still 1.-Two on, nor e'rc grow hard and cold Bend me and break me to thy will, But may my spirit ne CT grow old
 tMissouri Democrat. The Sunday Atlas says: :" Hurrah for tl irls of 't6p q Thunder p cries a Jersey p CT, That's too darned old. Hurrah f le girls of seventeen.n