The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1862-04-10
COLE, Justice.
The sDring Tinae,

The following beautiful passage occurs in a
sermon recently preached by Henry Ward
! Beecher:
There is something even mere touching than
} this. 10 is the flight of birds. All summer they
have filed the woods. They sing from the
trees They rise from thickets and weed muf-
fed fences as in our wanderings we scale them.
They sing in the air. They wake us with their
! mathis They chant vespers with glorious
discordancs of sweet melody. They fit across
the lawn, rise and fall on the swinging twig or
rock to the wind on their aerial perch.
But after August they become mute and in
October days they begin to recede fr1m the
dwelling. No more twittering wren; lao more
circ!ing swallows; no more grotesque bobohnks
no more larks, singing as if they were heart
broken. They begin now to come in troops in
the distant field. At sunset the pasture is full
of Aocks of hundreds and thousands. At morn
ing they are gone. And every day brings its
feathery caravan Every day they pass on.
Long focks of fowl silently move far up against
the sky, and always going away from ths North
At evening the weary string OF wster-fowls n.y.
| ing low, and wistful of some pond for rest and
| food, fill the air with hoarse trumpsting and
clangor They are going the last are going,
| Winter is behind them summer is before themi
and we are left. The season IL bereft. Light
is short; darkness is long Flowers are sunken
to rest. The binds have flown away. Winter,
soiRteT, WINTER is upon the earth
At last comes the Decembe, days. The short
est is reached, Then few days stand alike.
Then the solar blaze creeps forward a minute
in the evening A little more again more, TIL
half hours ring around the horizon-tii hours
are strung upon the days-till the earth comes
bnck-tiiL the ponds unlock Themselves. The
forests grow purple twigged. The great winds
sigh and rage. March busters aud smiles oy
-. and Ii ind
The calves begin TO come Lambs bleat The
warm hills are Flowed. At last the nights are
without FROST
At length we awake some unexpected morn
ing and the blue birds call is Ill the tree: We
throw up the SASH The sun lies flush on all
the landscape. There is smell Of soil and leaf
in the air. The poplar buds are fragrant as
balm The air is warm and moist. The birds
are surely here they answer each other the
/ sparrow, the blue-bird, the robin, and afar oil
On the edges of the swamp, the harsh twanging
notes of the blackbird. 1t is spring 1t is time
of the singing Of the birds! Nobody iorgsts
the wild thrin of the heart at the first sound OF
birds 10 spring
Oh, with what sense of emancipation do we
hear the birds sing again God sends his cholrs
to sing over night and death for u.s. Winter,
that buried all, is herself put away. Death Ii
swallowed up in victory, and nature chants the
requiem Vi me ph5b anu bllo JUy Va SAiN hHsN'Ss
Nov, days shall grow longer and warmer Now,
industry shall move freely. Now, flowers shall
come up. Seed shall be sown. Doors and WIN
dows shall stand open all day long. Around
about the barn the hens shall caGkIe and crow.
Children shall shout. Spring has come and
all things rejoice at their release. No more in
hospitabls snow no more blight OF cold All
is promise. Men go forth with seed, and roots,
and scions. The orchard, and garden, and beld
are full of life
" The winter is past, the rain Is over and
gone The flowers appear on the earth; tDs
time Of The singing Of bifds is come, and the
voice of the tut lie is heard III the land
Is ibis, now, n mere ornamental passage OF
scripture? Scripture has no passages that are
mere ornaments. Things ornamental there are
in it, but they carry marrow and meat Unlike
all other literature, Scripture never merely dee-
CRATES If there is figure, 1t is always for
some errand of moral meaning. There Is no
description for desert ptlons sake. There ID no
poetry for mere 8sthetical pleasure. There Is
always profit witha.
| Nature, thsn, teaches that to every season OF
troub AID overthrow, there comes resurrec-
| ton In the deepest January Of the year there
| is a nerve that runs forward to June Life is
never extinguished. That which seems to DO
| death reaches forward and touches that which
| il vital