Winchester journal. [volume] (Winchester, Indiana) 1862-1863, 1863-10-09
EXTREME JUNCTION.
BY J. RUSSELL LOWELL.

BY J. RUSSELL LOWELL.
Go. leave me, Priest; my soul would be
Alone with the consoer. Death;
Far sadder eyes than thine will see
This crumbling clay yield up its breath;
These shrivelled han0have deeper stains
Than holy oil can cleanse away
Hands that have plucked the world : eoars,
gains
As erst they plucked the flowers of May.
Cali if thou canst, to those gray eyes
Some faith from youths traditions wrung
This fruitless husk which dustward dries
Has been heart once, has been young;
On this bowed head the awful Past
Once laid its consecratng hands:
The Future in its purpose vast
Paused, waiting my supreme commands.
But look, whose shadows block the door7
Who are those two that stand aIoof?
See. on my hands this freshening gore
Writes o'er again its crimson proof
NV looked for death bed guests are met
There my dead Youth doth wring it,
hands,
And there, with eyes that goad me yet,
The ghost of my Ideal stands.
God bends from out the deep and says
81 gave thee the great gift of life;
-
Are not my earth and heaven at strife7
| gave thee of my seed to SOW,
Bringest thou me my hundred fold2'
Can look up with face aglow,
And answer, Father, here is gold?"
| have been innocent God knows
When first this wasted life began,
Not grape with grape more kindly grows,
Than | With every brother man:
Now here | gasp; what lose my kind,
When this fast ebbing breath shall part ?
What bands Of love and service bind
This being to the worlds sad heart?
Christ still was wandering o'er the earth
Without place to lay his head
He found free welcome at my hearth,
He shared my cup and broke my bread
Now, when hea. those steps sublime,
That bring the other world to this,
Ny snake-turne nature. sunk in slime,
Starts sideway with defiant hiss.
/ Upon the hour when was born,
God said "Another man shall be-"
And the great Maker did not scorn
Out of himself to fashion me;
He summed me with his ripening looks,
And Heavens rich instincts in me grew,
As effortlcss as woodland hooks
Send vioess up and paint them blue.
Yes, ] who now, with angry tears.
Am exiled back to british clod.
Have borne unquenched for fourscore years
y spark of the eternal God;
And TO what end? How yield back
The trust for such high uses giycn2
Heavens light hath but revealed a track
Whereby to crawl away frcm heaven.
Men think IL is an awful sight
To see a soul just set adrift
On shat dFear voyage from whose night
The ominons shadows never lift
But It's more awful To behold
A helpless infant newly born,
Whose little hands unconscious hold
The keys of darkness and Of morn.
Mine held them orce; ! flung away
The keys that might have open set
/ The golden sluices of the day,
But clutch the keys Of darkness YETI
4 / hear the reapers singing 90
Into G0d's harvest; |, that might
With them have chosen. h, re below
Grope Shuddering at the gates of night
O glorious Youth, that once vast mine.
O high Ideal. all in vain
Ye enter at this ruined shrine,
Whence worship ne'er shall rise again;
The bat and owl inhatit here,
The snake nests in the altar stone,
The sacred vessels mou1er near,
The image of the God is gone.