The Lambertville press. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1858-1???, 1860-02-22
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FOR THE PRESS
THOUGHTS.
BY KATE W.

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tv flower with its feathery leaves-it
adorns no longer the snowy toilet, or
my little study-placed there by care
full hands; the yellow flowers which
bordered the ravine are all gone; the
old locust is bereft of its foliage; and
the tiny dew-drop glistens no more on
the tasseled grass. The broad prairie
is mantled with the pure white snow
to-day, and as l look out upon the
spotless robe which covers our rich
land, | think of the pure and stainless
garments of the angels in Heaven, and
| feel in my heart that when God calls
our fair human flowers, ere sin has LETT
! its impress upon the beauteouS brew,
or old age has culled the roses of health
and youth from off the cheek, tits well
that they should go; and yet, dear
E I cannot give thee up; L
have asked myself so often, since |
read the sad words, II feel that | am
consumption's VICTIM" how can it be
that she must die? the beautiful, the
young; the maiden of twenty sum-
mers she, with the star-lit eye, and
the noble brow: and the prayer bursts
from my lips, Father spare her; let
not the bright eyes be closed in death,
ere their lustre is dimmed by time oh,
let them gaze a little longer out upon
this beautiful world let not the black
glossy braids which adorn the pure
white brow hide tkeir beauty 'neathe
the coffin lid so early may my hand
press the shining bands once more ; and
there are others, too, who delight to
Irvine their darling's tresses." Am [
wrong, dear E-, to pray for your
stay with US little longer Oh, would
that | could say with you, "Our Fa-
theirs will be tlone.'' Heaven is a
bright and beautiful home there are
angels with white robes and golden
crowns; ;. there are saints who have
fought to win the prize )" they have
passed through seas of affection, and
are happy now in the presence of their
Father. And I have dear ones their;
a mother upon whose dear bosom |
have often nestled (; sisters who have
passed away like the summer flowers;
schoolmates and friends who went with
me a little while, culling the flowers
along life's pathway, then turned aside
and were gone and up past the clouds
of blue / traced their flight to the land
of rest (; and to-day how many can say
with me, the snow white and pure
covers the BOSOM of the earth, and
wraps in its chill embrace the graves of
my loved ones. And vet, dear E.,
| am happy. What tho the chill
Winter has come, and my flowers are
dead-the fair Spring time will come
again, and new buds will wreath their
beauty with the rich green sod, What
tho there are vacant chairs in my home,
do not feel in my heart that my loved
ones are safely housed in fairer home
where It's summer bloom all through
the long ages Of eternity Then do
not blame me when | yearn for the life
of my friend to be spared yet little
longer. Do you rememberin the sun
ny May, when the leaves were inst bud
ding on the forest trees, and the Spring
birds were trilling their sweetest songs,
how we sought meath the tender wild
wood foliage for the fair white daisy,
and how Herbert Ray turned aside
the dead leaves cast there by the Au-
tumn winds, and gathered for us the
sweet winter green with its shining
leaves ? And I remember well how
you looked down upon the withered
leaves at your feet, while your cheek
blushed brightly red as a summer rose
when he placed frail garland Of violet
blue as the sky above US, upon you
fair brow. Herbert loved you dear
know he did-for in low tones, anC
with an aching heart, he told me hi
hopes and disappointment. You re
jected the love of faithful heart an'
the youth with whom we roamed thro
the forest shade on many a sunny ola.
is wanderer now And while i IDOL
out upon the white carpet old White
has spread, | shudder to think tina
peFchance that noble brow with it
wealth OF clustering black curIs, Whel
night comes Ger the land, may press !
pillow of snow on some distant lonel1
plain. Dear E., | will not thinl
of your fading cheek, aud falterinG
step; I will not think that you mus
die now, and leave this world, wher
so many hearts will mourn your de
parture but | will remember you a
the hopeful, Joyous girl'that bore upo
her brow the violet wreath, in thesun
ny May time. Oh Heaven is bliss
full abode, and the angels are there, an
our friends who have gone before, re
Ejoicing in the name Of their Father, ar