True American. [volume] (Steubenville [Ohio]) 1855-1861, 1858-02-17
POetical,
FRoM THE MISSOURI DEMOCRAT.
My Fiftieth Birth Day.
by MRS. FRANCES D. GAGE.

BY MRS. FRANCES D. GAGE.
used to think, when /, a child,
Played with the pebbles on the shore
Ofthe clear river rippliug wild,
That roll ed before my fathers door,
How long, how very long 'twould be,
Ere l could live out fifty years;
7 think of it oft checked my glee,
And filled my childish heart with fears.
I looked at grandma, as she sat,
Her forehead decked with silvery rime,
And thought, "When am old as that,
Must dam stockings all the time?
NJ ust sit in the arm char so,
a white fplled cap around my face,
With dull drab strings, and ne'er 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, Ger and DER again,
never might grow old at all.
Yet she was ever cheerful, and 81,
Would oft lines Join our sport and nlrth;
And many play by her was, planned,
Around the winter evening hearth.
But then she play ed 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."
Lwept like one ofhope forlorn,
And threw my playthings all away.
Be old like grandma, and not roam
The glen in spring for violets blue,
Or bring the bright May blossoms home.
Or pick the strawberries 'mong the dew
Be old and in the summer time,
Take weary maps, in midday hours,
And fail the Chandler trees to climb,
And shake the ripening fruit in showers
Be old and sit round wintry fires;
BE fifty l-have no sliding spree,
And hush away all wild desires
l thought twere better not to be.
Bat two score years have glided by,
With summers heat and winters cold,
With sunny hours and clouded sky,
Till now I'm fifty-now I'm old
The sun burnt locks are silvery now,
That used to dangle in the wild;
And eyes are dim, and feet more slow,
That left my playmates all behind.
Spectacles lie upon my nose.
But no white frill looks prim and cold
My grey hair curls wear pink bows
l do not feel SO very old.
I play among the pebbles-I
Would love, on that familiar shore,
Where once I watched the swallows fly
The dancing ripplihg waters Ger.
I'd like to climb the apple tree,
Where once the spicy sweeting grew;
Make grape vine swings, and have glee
But am FIFTY-'twouldn't do.
I'd like to 90 nutting now,
And gather violets in the glen;
And wreath the wild fow'rs round my brev
As we'll as e'er | 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-nooning as of old
Play "lost my glove" and "Mind the rule
My heart throbs quick-it is not cold.
! hear the cry of Kate and Jane,
Of Lottie, Lima, Helen, Sue
All, yes Ill own it in between.)
Come George, and Dan, and William "a
I'm fifty--but am not sad
see no gloom in ripening years,
My hopes are bright, my spirit glad
How vain were all my childish fears.
My child sh sports, l loved them then,
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 play, with all its ze
That as we journey down the hill
Makes each succeeding year the best.
There Is stalwart men beside my hearth,
And "bonpy lasses" laughing free,
That had not lived ON this good earth,
To love and labor, but for me;
And shall pine for childhood joys,
For Woodland walks, and violets blue
While round me merry boys and girls
Are doing WhatI used to dof sv
Ny days of toll, 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've trod were sometimes rous
And sharp and piercing 10 my feet;
Yet there were daisied walks enough,
To make it all seem smooth and swee