Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1862-06-27
An Order for a Picture.
DY ALICE CAREY.


Away and away, night and morn,
Woods upon woods, with fields of corn
Lying between them, not quite sere,
And not in the full, thick leafy bloom,
When the wind can hardly find breathing roo
Under their tasscls.-eattle near,
Biting shorter the short green grass,
And a hedge Of sumach and sassafras,
With bluebirds twittering all around
(Ah, good painter, you can't paint soundD
These, and the house where was born,
Low and little, and black and old,
With children, many as it can hold,
All at the windows, open widc,-
Heads and shoulders, clear outside,
And fair young faces, all ablush.
Perhaps you may have seen some day.
Roses crowding the seIf.samc way,
Out Of a wilding, way-sde bush,
Listen closer. When you have done
with woods, and cornheIds, and grain
herds
A lady, the loyecst ever the sun
Looked down upon, you must paint for me
o, If Iouly could make you see
The clear blue eyes the tender smile,
The sovereign sweetness, the gentle grace,
The woman's soul, and the angels face
That are bcamng on me all the while,
need not speak these foolish words.
Yet one word tells you all | would say
She is my mother; you will agree
That all the rest may be thrown away.
Two little uTchins at her knee
You must paint, sir: one like me-
The other with clearer brow,
And the light OF his adventurous eyes
Flashing with boldcst enterprise
at ten years Old he went to sea-
God knoweth ifhc be living now,
He sailed in the good ship Commodore, -
Nobody ever crossed her track
To bring US news, and She never came back.
All lis twenty long years and more
Since that old Ship went ont of the bay
with my great hearted brother On her deck
watched him tiIl he shrana TO a spocb,
And hs facc was toward lac nh the way.
Bright his hair was, a golden brown,
The time VIC stood AZ Our mothers knee
That besuteOus head, if it did 60 down
Carried sunshine nto the sea!
Out in the fields one summer night
We were together, half afraid
or the corn leaves rustliGE, and Of the shad,
Ofthe high Hills, stretching so still and far
Lettering till arcr the low little light
OF the candle shonc through the open door,
And over the hay stack, pointed top,
All Of a trombc. aud ready to drop,
The first half hour, the grca, yellow star,
That we, with staring, iguoraut eyes,
Had often and often watched to sec
Propped and held in its place in the skies
BY the fork Of n tall red mulberry tree,
Which close in the edge of our fax field grew
Dead a; the top,-just one branch full
OF leaves notched round, and lined with wool,
From which it tenderly shook the dew
Over our heads, when we came to play
In its handbreadth of shadow, day after day.
Afraid to go home, sir for one of US bore
A nest full Of specklcd and thin-shcIIed eggs
The other, bird, held fast by the legs,
Not so big rs a straw Of wheat:
4 nc utIiiCS We BdNt hCE silC WOullu Cdlt
But cried and cried, till we held her bill
So slim and shining, to keep her still
At last VIC stood at our mothers knee,
Do you think, sir, fyou try,
You can paint the look of lie'
If you can, pray have the grace
To put it solely in the face
or the urchin that is lkcst to me:
think twas solely mine, indeed
But that's no mattcr-paint it so;
The eyes Of our mothcr-Oake good heed)
Locking not on the nest full of eggs,
Nor the futtering bird, held so fast by the legs,
But straight through our faces down to our lies,
And o, with such injured, reproachful surprise,
felt my heart bleed where that glance went,
as though
sharp blade struck through it.
You, sir, know,
That you on the canvass are to repeat
Things that arc tairest, things most sweet
Woods and cornfelds, and mulberry tree
The mother,-the lads, with their bird, at her
knee;
But o, that look Of reproachful woe
High as the heavens your name Pl shout.
II you paint me the picture, and leave that out.
Atlantic Monthly.