North Branch democrat. [volume] (Tunkhannock, Pa.) 1854-1867, 1862-11-26
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From the Carbonate Advanced
The Prose Of a WOman.s
Life.

Life.
| First, she is born, and the whole world knows,
That is the commonest kind of prose-
Commonsst kind, as the census shows -
Born, and swaddled, and bandeged tight,
In the middle Of some cloud blackened night,
By the ghostly, glimmering, dim lamp slight
When mortals are heavy as pigs of lead,
Huddled and cuddIed, snug in bed,
Needless of all that is sung or said.
And the little " woman in white' gets miss'd
Colic'd, and catnip-tca'd, and kissed
And bounced about like a corn-meal erist.
Practicing babyhood's grandest airs
Simpering, pouting, in equal shares,
Till properly taught to lisp her prayers.
That nightly she sings-songs, on battered knees,
Adding petitions, by sage degrees
Till included all that she hears and Sees
Time ilts the child up his ladder Of years,
Now IN diml les, and now in tears
Woman's aspirings and baby fears.
Far in the distance, dimIy CLEANS,
'Along the foldngs Of care tched seams,
Threads of gossamer, woven in dreams:-
Woos Of ra Hence, glancing bright,
In and out of the drsky light,
As fire-fies dance in the black mi might:
And dream Of beauty, that all have had,
Sometimes torturing sometimes glad,
Eeineth Ter life mesh sweetly sad.
But beautiful visions, and all blest things,
Vanish on swift and invisible wings,
And only their echo sits and sings
Sits and siugs, in the shady slopes,
Down where gllded our golden hopes,
As orioles wing through the greenwood copse.
The maiIen's heart hath a new-taugbt prayer
II r bue-veined h ,nd-oh, It's passing fair,
And she givcth it to a strangers care
aging it softly in his own,
Trusting the pressure and the tone,
VIII last, when the bridal days be flown.
But spring flowers fade in the blossoming year -
From the early frost there is moro to fear,
Than the bIighting autumn's, chill and dresr.
And a touch Of GOODNESS creeps apace,
Over the warmth in his face,
And the roses drOop in the household vase.
And tears rain d)wnfrom her saddened eyes,
As she thinks OF orange-wreath that lies
OF in the dawn Of her year of sighs =
Or in the dawn how strange it seems,
That the heart lives on, though its broken dreams
Scattered lie in the mornings beams!
Drifting now from the happy shore,-
Leaving the robes that her girlhood wore
Leaving ths paths she will tread no more.
Might she bat gather an armful of things
Fa G / pictIres and broken rings
And lock Of hair, where the curl still clings
chen would she turn with her precious freight,
Back to the tread of her burdened fate
Back, where the calls OF duty wait.
What must the bride of sad year do?
Solace her lord with a sa,ory stew,
Made by hunis with the veins so blue!
And with the pain in her womanly heart,
VI Ike for dinner some delicate tart
b, nding the wifes with the houso-maid is art
Solace herself with needle and thread
Stitching, and stitching, till weary head
Oroop on breast, with the hope-star fed
OVER the house, with an eye of care,
Watching for cob-wcbs everywhere,
ELL wrinkles groove in her forehead fair.
Soothing the white dove on her breast,
Moaning so in babe unrest,
Iurmuring songs that they both love best.
}y and by, as the years steal on,
he red from the lovely lip is gone
Ind the roso-cheek faded thin and wan,
md the blus-veined hands grow white each day,
Ind the heavy iife-sands drop away
IS though they would mingle with church yard clay
md then tale that is told of all
he falls, some day, as the pale leaves fall,
md the plaintive nght-winds sigh DER all.
STELLA of Lackawanna.
80 TRUE observation-disclosures youI