The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1865-02-01
sLEIGH-RHDING LONG AGO.

Hurrah for the Winter moonlight
White light on the drifted snow;
Hurfah for the dear up country,
Hurfah for the long ago
How shiver and shudder and tremblel
Old feaffhlly old, and cold
But hurrah for the old mans treasures,
The old mans memories Of gold
| remember Winter moonlight
Of exceeding beauty, like this;
When all of the stars together
Sang an audible song of bliss;
When the blue was so deep that my young eyes
Never dreamed of that land of delight
Which the old, over whom it hangs loweri
Forever, imagine in sight.
There are stories Of Paradise maidens
That hemp-drunken sons of Islam
Hear, droEsily murmured by breezes
That rustic the whispering palm.
There are tales of pure virgins whose ftgess
Hold gobiets of fe-giyng wine,
Whom the dead, that die bravely in battle,
Shall clasp in an embrace divine.
remember hazel eyed woman
Than whom never dream was mere fair,
Like star in storm cleaned her brow
Thro' the dark flowing food of her hair
How swift few the horses before US,
How swift few the passion-winged hours
No Turk ever dreamed of such houries
As lie in the arms of the Giaours:
Fast, fast went the horses before US,
Fast. fast in the night keen and cold;
If tonight those wild bells sound so clearly
1t can't be that | am SO old.
Soft, soft, but how warm was the pressure
On mine, of her velyety cheek
Oh, stars ye have not yet forgotten
That JOY, too delicious tie speak.
Fast went the horses before us
Close, close pressed the cheek soft and warm,
And then-oh ,ye stars through what Winters,
What Winters OF snow and Of storm,
What Summers and sncws We have kept it,
Her secret and mine, of our bliss,
When her red lips turned joyously, gently,
And blessed my thrilled lips with kiss
Hey, PHILIP, MY grandson, stand up here:
Doat ever go sleigh-riding now 2 cups,
Are there madens whose lips are Ike wine
Whose cheeks are like sunset DER snow?
Have the hearts cf the girls grown colder,
Are cheeks row forbidden to press !?
Or are there lips whose soft voices yet whisper
Loves latest ead sweetest caress2
Nv lips have grown thir-I am old,
And the current of life runneth slow;
They glide swift as the sleigh-riders drive
Who travel the road that go
But silently lonesome and cold,
No bells ring oft On the night,
No cheek against mine, no delicious caress,
Till my hope shall be changed into sight
The drifts lie deep in the church-yard,
Heaped up over head stone and cross,
While deep under snow drift and graye-moun
And head-ston long covered with moss,
Like the maiden, whose eyes of soft hazel
Were as deep as the depths of the skies;
And the kiss of her lips that once blessed me,
shall know-when the blessed arise.
Nv boy, when you drive down the valley
Rein up at the church in the glen;
Go slowly and sacredly by it.
And, Phil. do not touch her lips thenj
Don't kiss the dear child but keep quiet,
And press your cheek closely to hers;
Let the horses 60 gently, and hear you
The psalm of the solemn old frs.
Then up the long hill with a rattle,
Then down the sharp hill with shout
Then clasp the glad girl to your bosom.
And kiss the red lips till they pout;
Then tell her the Old happy story,
And hear her sweet "Yes," 4" whispered low
While sleep in the white Winter moonlight
And dream of the Bright Lone AGO.