The Fairfield herald. [volume] (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1849-1876, 1868-01-15
VOL. i'll
THE
THE DYING GIRL.
BY sKENTl'CEyO -

IHb DYING GIRL.
By "KENTuCKY."
smoo he my hair gently, sweet mother,
~ nha shade my faint eyes from the light
Plllow my head on your bosom so true.
For feel that l am dying to night.
Yes, ! feel that the spirit they call the soul,
"llt soon leave its prison of clay;
Anu feel that mine eyes will ne'cr open
again, iH
On the passion and sin of ife's day.
Soon the doubts, hopes, wishes and fears
10 shrinking, the fierce, strange unrest 4:
All the memory of things that hnve been
VIII have ceased their wild strife in my
breast.
Raisc me up in your arms just little,
MY breath comes SO suggishly slow;
We n rant dreamy memory how once
MY blood courscd with passionate low
what were the years, did YOU say?
-, I'm twenty years old to night;
since consumption first painted my cheeks
I've not counted the months in their
flight.
My birthday My bridal night this was to
Dress me in whi,c-Tm Lcc's bride -
Yes, lhcse were his words, "l'll love you
ihro' all
Tho suffering and lirc's ills bctidc"
Yes. know he went to tho wars,
For my life aud my soul his smile MISS
cd
See, this was The curl that he priced,
And This was the hnnd that he kissed.
/ am Young to die. dad you say?
y. think Of carth's widening strife
And call it not death, for my spirit will
drink
From the fountain Of ccasclcss life
What r Lee, too, were dying to night =
How joyful if Gou's will. twouid be
That the summons that bcckons my soul to
It's goal.
Would also set his spirit free.
l am willing to go, for I feel t.
Thcrc is light and glory and rect, ",'q.
II somc brighter cline, but vaguely sigh
Taac f canap. die Oh Lees breast. s.l
Now strange is the quiet Of this dark room,
Aud the chin,c Of the music, how sweet,
Ringing out in tho ballroom over tho way,
In time TO the dancers feet.
l am thinking now"of that last gay ball,
And how in my crrls Lee wOuld twine
Starry jcssami.c buds, and said, in tho
dance,
No form was so fair as mine.
How changed now and then. for my heart
lcaped high.
And my cheek matched the roses red;
Now auict, list TO the dancers feet,
Painting, weak, on dying bed
In that rcveling throng do you think,
mona,
ThSt any one thinks of me,
And turn and start at n merry laugh,
And the sound ola foots.ep free?
But it matters not close the window now,
Let the sound OF the music bc dim;
And raise NY head, mother, I'm leaving
Sing that dear. old fashioned hymn
'Tis very dark, mother, but am not afraid,
For see over yondcr star,
And the glimmcring glow of it's radiant light
Casts 4 gorious brightness afar.
When die, place Lees flowers oa my
breast, H
Moss, rosebuls, and jessamine whito;
And, mother, ne'er gricve, but hopefully
trust
That your child passed to heaven tonight.
a strange and sad interest attaches to
tho above poem. because il now reads like d
record Of The dying moments of its young
gifted authorcss, who passed from this
world Of chcckcrcd shadows just fone mont Il
ugo goto,dny. lis publication is the, las, sol
emn tribute wc mny pay to the genius Of
Miss Amanda L. Patton, whose finished
verso and sparkling prose has often cnliyen.
cdthese columns in days gone BY. 1t was
penned ia 18G3--full four years ago-whcn
the fair young writer, just ycrging into
womanhood, rosy with health and radiant
with beauty, the idol of l,or relatives and
tho admired ofall, little dreamed that, il
portraying tho dcath-sccne of a young con.
snmptiye, she was but prying strangely be-
y9S.1Sbp veil that hid her own future. =
YetnearlJ every sentiment that these verses
place in the mouth Of an imaginary charao.
ter was repeated by the poetess (anl somc-
times, in Tho self same words) in Tho earn
1oancss Of her dying hours. l--Louisvills
Courier.