The mountain Democrat., 1864-11-05
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ERsOSSSd 10 Abraham LdMcola spOn Ais ProclG.
AtatiOH Settin0- apart AS1Ess ~, 1854,
0s Day Of '' F;GsttR0, RuDaVtd-
fios GNd Prayer"
How few the years since Peace this people blest
with fruitful lAhsr a1d with bounteOuS rest;
Rnae sabbath bells, that called the land to prayer,
smots the sweet stillaessof the Summer air.
And slI our bofdeTs Ger, from year to year,
No hsrshoT music broke upon the ear
From the broad grain 1eldB Of the Northern plains
The prosperous hFmsrg drove their loaded wains -
The fair 0avannahs OF the Southern land
Tesmsd With the tillags Of the negTo'S hand
The simple negro. labOring with The light,
And cheering with the dance HE happy night
HE fAithfnl heart WAS to his master bound
No thought bad he beyond his daily round
OF dmple duties--all nnski'led TO know
That be who reared and fed him Was his foe.
fs-.z5sSp cuJa-.eS zs1I hattls'S dread alAszus,
Only old men had heard the clash ps anna,
And that In war; that made and kept us free,
When all the States were One for Liberty.
We watched the peace Summers come and uAne,
The bursting fullnsss Of the golden grain
We marked the days, and told the passing hOurS
On diAis EaEianded With mutt and aOwsrs;
But now, behold how changed the happy plain!
The reaper talls where once be cut the gEatn---
~. SssS sSe Ss A.,Ve., s1e Of en,Iw"Iy
Ths aOddsn meadows. red with ghAstly soAfe.
Gives graves to thoee to whom they once gave life
The simple Slave, torn from the nelds be titled,
IL bought BY craven Yankees TO be killed
Sent In their stead to play the warriors part,
And drive the bayonet to his masters heart
The blaekened chimney, tcttertng to the earth,
Shows ghastly token OF the ruined hearth .
Each SUI g0aS down upon sOEne .scsNA Of deAth,
Whersmsbgied sUhsreTs gasp for falling breath
Each morrow sends the inaxOrahle dart
Which breaks and bhShts some peaceful, happy
heart,
Widows who vail at eve at noon were wives:
Each hour do0ms helpless babes to orphaned lives.
No more we note the months by what they bring,
The fruits Of Summer, and the towers Of Spring
By whst they take we mark the passing years,
The gloomy dial watch with darkening fears,
Count hOHrs by butchered frisnds-the brave and
good
And score our calendar in brOthers' blood.
Oh bAbbling Jester, who, with bar room tales
Can point joke on Misery's hideous walls,
Who, when Antistam's awful field lay spread
With gToauing wounded and with murdered dead
Stretched out no helping hand to lift or save,
Or smooth the ghastlJ pathway to the grave;
Gave not word Of cheer or friendly nod,
To soothe the victims to your party god,
But drowned the piteous cries Of human wos
with the congenial music Of " Jim Crow :"
In hours like this, Of anguish and despair,
You dare to summon Smitten hearts to prayer
Dare to invoke the beggared wretch to fast
when the poor loaf now left him is his last
Call widows and their babes to leave their crust,
while he who earned it sleeps in Southern dust !,
TO pray that God will guide and bleSS the hand
AhAb UtVuBnb ehAS ANAh WI OuA btiASAeH Ahu
Jest II you will-let fiddle and baSsoon
Amuae the leisure Of q crowned buhoon;
Let puns 60 round-let not the laughter fail
While stintlesS slaughter taints the Southern gale
Fill up your ShAmbles, seize on legions more
To bleed and rot where legions f. Il before
Drag son from mother, husband tear from wife,
To fester on the fields Of fruitleSs strife
Let naught but tears and groaIfS and misery be,
Till the last negro slave iS starved or free
But, while the broken heart its voc endaree,
Insult not sacred grief with ba IN Of yours
Inhame not bursting bOsoms to despair,
By barring wounds that your hand planted there
Proclaim not days to fast, but days to bleed,
To those who suffer from perpetual need.
Let not Gods temples be again profaned
BY prayer for hands with daily Slaughter stained
By pardon asked for sins Of yesterday,
While swords are whetting for to morrow . fray
"How long! Oh, Lord how long," the mother
cries,
How long Oh, Lord how long," the widow
cries.
Patience /" "a voice breathes in her ear who
weeps,)
Be still! Gods awful justice only sleeps;
BE still few more months of dark misrule
"Wtn rid the nation Of this throned fool.
"a peoples fat. rung from sea to sea,
"Will seal his doom and make pc ople free.
Back to the filthy purlieuS whence he came
Will skulk, disguised, this wretched spawn Of
shame;
"Hated, despised, scourged by a two fld rod,
The scorn Of millions and the curse of God ~
Harrisburg Patriot and Union.