Kenosha tribune & telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1856-1859, 1858-08-19

! For the Tribune and Telegraph
Here She Sleeps.
g When l am dead twill be the same,
Though all unloved my earthly name;
| The shadows will darby creep,
And dreams fearful haunt my sleep,
| Let morals praise or blame;
| And Winter winds their rsvels keep,
| And Summer skies sadly weep
| Above my grave if lone came,
! Or laid down the heir OF fame"
The summer sky meier bent DER bluer
beauty, and the balmy air meier came
with sweeter, purer fragrance, than this
midsummer afternoon, and yet I've led
yon hereEto this quiet graveyard, where
life, to you, seems clad in sombre hues.
am with dear friends here! All
around beneath these low mounds are
Wondering those whose hearts had
twined around mine own strong ties of
objection, which death could not sever;
and my heart follows them here to their
silent homes.
-nAh, Kittie, do you know of the sweet
peace that cometh to the heart, from this
silent companionship with the graves of
loved ones? Away here in this quiet
corner, where the willow bends its long
slender branches DER this low mound,
and the turf grows so soft and green be-
meath Its shade, let us pause-for there
is much to sadden life's sweetened mo-
ments In the fate of her, that fluids here
a quiet rest.
The stone is broken and the long
grass bends lightly over it, in its low
resting place above the breast of her,
whose name it bears. In its fall, the
sweetly springing plants, that affections
gentle hand had nurtured there, We're
crushed, and the fragrance went quick
ly out from their fair blossoms, even as
the light went out from her pure spirit,
and the warm life from her young
heart.
A little while and that stone stood
beautiful in its drifted whiteness-a
way-mark, with its warningly uplifted
finger, pointing alike when the morning
sunlight gilded it's unsullied snow, or
when the drapery of night hung darkly
dim about it, to the blue beauty of heav-
en-, beyond which is TIE spirits happy
home.
Look upon it! the name, the age, the
date, are there. Do they bring to you
the memory of some loved friend of
thine, that laid down in life's summer
brightness, and died?
'Tis a fit emblem of the trailty of
mans works 1t mirrors forth the lit
tleness Of his designs compared with the
solemn vaStness of Gods
She that sleeps beneath that stone,
had seen not many Summers come and
go-with their bright birds and flowers.
Friends, brothers, parents--all that
make life's sweetness, were hers; but a
winter blight dimmed life's summer hues
the frail iife-chord was broken, and
"here she sleeps"
"She grew in love-" The beauties of
eighteen Summers had strewn their trea-
sures through her ebon locks, and left a
diamondsparklein her eye, and a strange
ly winning smile upon her lips. Hers
was soul strong in it's own purity,
where dwelt the brightest gems Of poe
try and thought, and in her heart was
stored affections dearest treasures.
Her childhood's home, was wild,
sunny place, nestled between towering
hills, that looked darkly down into some
mimic glen, or bowed grandly DER some
pebbly stream that went singing along
its way. That placid lake that lay Just
before that little brown house, so
wreathed in clinging vines, and fragrant
shrubs, which she called home--whose
shores were fringed with just such long,
feathery willows, as this that drops
round us here--here many times I've
heard her sweet voice melting DER its
limpid waters, and cchoing far away a.
mongst the wild old hills But
Her pen had linked with every glen.
And every hin, and every stream,
The romance of some poet-dream,"
and the weaker spell of my words can
not weave it half so well as hers.
But, with all her rare gifts, and radi-
ant beauty, they laid her very early here.
'Twas in the warm Autumn time, ere
the oscar and yellow leaf' had fallen,
but where the wayy mass of foliage was
changing to varied tints of crimson and
gold, that she went to her eternal rest.
She rose in the dewy freshness of the
morning, and casting off her light canoe.
went floating DER the peaceful bosom of
the lake. Now and then, came on the
wings Of the morning wind, snatches of
some favorite air, and in the intervals,
perchance, she dreamed some of her old
sweet dreams of happiness. They heard
a cry, and saw the waters close over her.
but why she found that sudden death
or, if she sought it-none knew. They
took her from those much-loved waters,
wrung their brightness from her dark
some hair, wrapped her in the snowy
whiteness of shroud, and ere another
morn, with its crimson light, and bright
ening shadows, had come and gone,
bore her here.
As the evening came, and the shad-
ows fell softly DER the long grass, and
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