The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1866-09-14
Alone, Z 1Eiaaight Reverie.


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am alone tonight,
Nay, not alone,
For thou, beloved art with me-
Did d1eangF
M4thought thy warm breath kissed my fevered brow,
Methought thou stood'st reclining at my side,
Thy circling reposing on my own,
As when, into my hungry ear thy whisper
Poured its riclf tribute Of confding love.
The pen wherewith fashioned vagrant thought
Dropped from my fingers. All unconsciously
I turned to meet the soul-lght of thine eyes,
To feel the warmth of thy endearing smile,
To grasp the hand whose touch i'll answering touch,
Signaed whole volumes Of unf lterng trust!
An me! twas but dream! Thou are not herei
No eyes, like stars, meet my imploring glance,
No smile like sunshine, bathes me in its beauty,
No touch responsive thrills. I am aIoneI
Alone! how sorrwful to be alonel
] neNe eI knew, beloved till thou vast taken,
The meaning of that bitter word, alouel
I feel it now in all its desolation!
What time I stood beside thine open grave
And heard the clods fall jarringly and heavy
Upon thy coffin lid, my Beautiful,
., then my heart within, wth sudden bound
Seemed to leap from my body, and stretch out
It's yearning arms toward thy enthroned form,
And take its place beside thee. There it lay,
Clasping thee in its grasI of passionate grief:
1t would not be divorced, not e'en by deaths
For when I turned me with the parting crowd,
It nestled closer to thy cold, cold clay,
The living with the dead. 1t lies there still
Leaving me desolate in the world. Al me!
Nay let me ehide this sudden burst Of SORROW,
It is not well to be betrayed by passion,
Into this wild forgetfuIness of reason,
'Twas but what seemed thyself that day we buried
And tits not wise to speak thus Of the dead
Whom Christ has taken. Thou art liriHg still
0, my own love, art thou not with me now
Looking upon my midnight hour Of grief
With eyes comp may be, wondering
That this poor heart will not be comforted,
And longing to uplift the darkened curtain
That wells thee from my vision. I, alone4
Thy spirit still holds fellowship with mine;
talk with thee, and find nay woe assaaged
Find something soothing in these hours Of silence,
When thou and I sit talking thus together
In sweet soul-cOnverse, while the world is dark.
For thou mine own, art perpetual presence:
About my pathway. In my restless dreams
Thou contest to soothe the weary hours of night;
And when the cheerful sun looks through my cur
tains,
His first beams light my soul to thoughts of thee
And of thy Home whore Day all glorious reigns,
And night holds no dominion. Not alone!
Nay, thou art with me. I am not aloneI
have no picture, Of thee, dear departed,
I have no picture of thee--iti is we'll!
No artist skill could paint thee. Not the Sun
Himself could catch the life of thy sweet face,
And it would mar my joy to look upon
A blank, expressionless, and fading toy,
And call it by thy name. Yes, have pictures
Hung in the deathless Hall of Memory
| (which time can never dim. Ia rRres- framework
| These pictures all stand out before my vision,
And bless me with their beauty. Girlhood's smile,
! ] -, 10 80 -,
| Which LETT its impress my ruder nature,
! And fashioned me to sweet companionshiP
With thee, whose heart was full of tender grace,
| As flowers of Spring are full Of sweet perfume.
! o, these are pictures which can never fade!-
| l look upon them till my tears are kindled
Into blaze ofjoy, and forget
| The 'wildering sorrow of our separation
In blissful recollection that to me
was given love so rare and excellent.
Still other pictures Hnger round my path.
Thine eyes-are they not glancing upward daily,
/ Set meath the sunny curls of a sweet face,
Fair as its mother's9 Thy expressive smile
| Is it not left upon thy ehidren's features
! Still to illumine my soul in hours Of sadness
And bathe me in the warmth of thy sweet lovei
! o, yes, at morn, st noon, at eve, at night.
! Some trace, some semblance Of the dear departed
Breaks into life before me. Thy are here.
/ Standing beside me, motherless, alas
/ Claiming intenser love since thou art gone
! Each motion speaks of thee and Of thy beauty
! With these, must not say an alone
! Good night, 81 eet sPirit-Peaccful be thy rest,
| Now disembodied-till the welcome voice
/ 81 am the Resurrection and the Life"
| Shall summon thee to join the radiant host
/ Of Gods elect, and stand IN form immortal
| A bright TRANSPORTATION.
| With these communings
! I bend me to the Fathers viii, and wait
| With patience and subm ssion that glad hour
! When we shall meet again, and death moro
Dissolve the tie that binds Us. Now good night
I sleep to dream of thee.
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