Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1860-04-14
POETRY.

Mr.. GEORGE II. CLARK Of Hartford, Ct, las
Gently given 10 tho public an elegant volume Of I
ems, with the ianciiul title Of "Underow of n Trad
Wind Surf" many of which have enjoyed an extc
sive circulation IN the newspapers. MIR CLARK is
native Of this villagc and the parson whose define
ton is so perfect is supposed to have been his {
minister the Rev. WIN. WELLS who, more than
quarter of n century since was pastor of the on
church in town. Those who attended upon his mi
istrntions must well remember the black silk vely
cap he wore on those occasions, and the words wi
which he always closed his discourses, "Consid
therefore, what has been said, and may God give Y
rs well rs the other incidents to viii
the poet makes allusion.-ED. PHENIN.l
THE PARSON.
When was young, and fond Of noise,
And wore my first gray homespun jacket,
And fought stout battles with the boys,
And filled my fathers house with racket;
Our wcll-beloved pastor died,
Aud left behind him scores of wecpers-
Stout pillars of the church, long tried,
As well as lesser props-and sleepers.
lie was patriarch, wise and gray,
One of the old time Christian scholars;
Who cheered nilliction's weary way,
And gave tn oppressed advce-and dollars.
The matrons' love for him, at last,
Sublimed almost TO vencration,
For he'd baptized one-haf the past,
And all the present generation.
Outside the church, the good man held
A comprehensive supervision,
And village 1uidnunce were compelled
To bow before his calm decision.
Though party strife might rage and swell,
Or skeptics raise some knoy questions,
There came no storm he could not quel,
No doubt too grave for his digestion.
do remember well the scene,
When, all the congregation seated,
lie closed the book with reverent mien,
And twice the pregnant text repeated;
And then, as influenced from above,
His heart with holy theme expanding,
Appealed to Faith and Christian Love,
As well us human understanding.
His looks, his tones, his earnest ways,
Form one of memory's pleasing pictures,
As he, in strong but hoinely phrase,
Impaired hope or uttered structures.
The velvet cap he always wore,
Whene'er he thumped the pulpit cushion,
Loomed like Il beacon from the shore,
To warn us sinners from perdltion.
The best Of men cross must bear
So Providence or Fate contrivc it;
OF private gricfs he had his share,
And some that were not so private.
He might conceal the smoldering fire
OF mental or domestic trial,
But troubles with the wrangling choir
Were patent rs their own bass-viol.
OF course, there was among his charge,
One busy meddling, ancient maiden,
Who like II tire-ship, roamed at large,
With furtivc stores Of scandal laden
She scattered brands Of discord free,
She slandered and annoyed the parson,
Till all agreed she ought to be
Indicted for constructive arson.
On Wednesday nights he always made
To us a quiet pastoral visit;
So, when the bell his touch betrayed,
Ny mother never asked, "WhO is itY'
But wheeling out the easy chair
With its inviting arms of leather,
She laid his pipe, with thoughtful care,
And steel tobaccO-box together.
Those genial times were mellow ripe,
When folks were not inclined to bicker,
II ministers enjoyed pipe
And slipped u social glass of lquor;
So while his cheerful features glowed.
And smoke-wreaths circled to the ceiling,
His talk i'll streams Of wisdom flowed,
Like waters from fUunt Of healing.
We loved the man, reverod him, too
As who did not that ever knew him?
His piety and kindness drew,
With cords of love, all classes to him.
His praise by men need not be Tipped,
To make our sorrowing hearts beat faster,
For memory holds secret crypt
Wherein is shrined our sainted pastor.