The Ashland union. [volume] (Ashland, Ashland County, Ohio) 1854-1868, 1859-02-09

AltnOugn MS eyes we're dim,
Thank'd God he thus could pay her
The care she gave tlhim.
This fresh bright life would bring her
A new and joyous fate
o Bertha, check the nurmur
That cries, Too late! too latel
Too late! Could shehave known it
A few short weeks before,
That his life was completed,
And needing hers'po more,
She might-O sad repiping!
What s'might have been," forget;
at was not" should suffice US
To trife vain regret.
He needed her no longer,
Each day it grew more plain;
First with u startled wonder,
Then with a wondering pain.
Love: Why, his wife best gave 1t;
Comfort: curst Bertha speak
Counsel; when quick resentment
Flush'd on the young wife's check.
MOI more long talks by freight
OF childish times long past,
And dreams of future greatness
Which he must reach at last;
Dreams, where her pUrer instinct
With truth unerring fold
Where was the worthless gliding,
And Where refined gold.
Slowly, but surely ever,
Dora's poor jealous pride;
Which she called love for Herbert,
Drove Bertha from his side;
And, spite of nervous effort
To share their alter'd life,
She felt check for Herbert,
A burden to his wife.
This was the least: for Bertha
Feard, dreaded, knea0 at length,
How much his nature owed her
Of truth, and power, and strength:
And watchd the daily falling
Of all his nobler part:
Low aims, weak purpose, telling
In lower. weaker art.
And now, when he is dying,
The last words she could hear
Must not be hers, but given
The bride of one short year,
The last care is another's;
The last prayer must not be
The one they learned together
Beside their mothers knee.
Summon d at last: she kisses
The clay-cold stiffening hand;
And, reading, pleading efforts
Answers, with solemn promise,
In clear but trembling tone,
To Doras life hcnceforward
She will devote her own.
Now all is over. Bertha
Dares not remain TO weep,
But soothcs the frightened Dora
Into q sobbing sleep.
The poor weak child will need her:
L..
When God sends new Duty
To comfort each new pain
NUMBER THREE.
The house is all deserted
In the dim evening gloom,
Only one figure passes
Slowly from room TO room;
And, pausing at each doorway,
Seems gathering up again
Within her heart the relics
OF by-gone joys and pain.
There is an earnest longing
In those who onward gaze,
Looking with weary patience
Toward the coming days.
There is a deeper longing,
More sad, more strong more keen;
Those know it who looked backward,
And yarn for what has been.
At every hearth she pauses,
Touching ettcl, we'll known chair;
Gazes from every window,
Lingers on every stair.
What have these months brought Bertha
Now one more year is past?
This Christmas Eve shall tell us,
The third one and the last.
The wilful, wayward Dora,
In those first weeks of grief
Could seek and find in Bertha
Strength, soothing, and relief,
And Bertha-last sad comfort
True woman-heart can take
Had something still to suffer
And do for Herbert's sake.
Spring, with her western breczcs,
From Indian islands bore
To Bertha news that Leonard
Would seek his home once moro.
What was it-joy and sorrow?
What were they-hopes or fears?
That fush'd her checks with crimson,
And filed her eyes with tears?
He came. And who so kindly
Could ask and hear her tell
Herbert's last hours; for Leonard
Had known and loved him well.
Daily he came; and Bertha,
Poor weary heart, at length
Weigh'd down by others weakness,
Could rest upon his strength.
Yet not the voice of Leonard
Could her true care beguile,
That turned TO watch, rejoicing,
Dora's reviving smile.
So, from that little household
The worst gloom pass'd away,
The one bright hour of evening
Lit up the livclong day.
Days passed. The golden summer
In sudden heat bore down
Its blue, bright, glowing sweetness
Upon the scorching town.
And sights and sounds of country
Came in the warm soft tune
Sung by the honey'd breezes
Borne on the wings of june.
Oae twilight hour, but earlier
Then usual, Bertha thought
She knew the fresh sweet fragrance
Of flowers that Leonard brought;
Through open'd doors and windows
1t stole up through the gloom,
And with appealing sweetness
Drew Bertha from her room.
Yes, he was there; and pausing
Just near the open'd door,
To check her hearts quick beating,
She heard-and paused still more
His low yoice-Dera's s answers
His pleading-Yes, she knew
The tone-the words-the accents;
She once had heard them too.
tW ould Bertha blame her ?" Leonard's
Low, tender answer came
Bertha was far too noble
To think or dream of blame"
.And was he sure he loved her.