The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1869-05-06
From the Banner of Light.
The Philanthropist and the Farmer.


The merchant prince had giv'n with liberal hand,
To feed the starving, and to bless the land.
Ten thousand hearts gush forth in grateful song,
While pen and press the just award prolong.
The merchant prince, one genial day in spring,
Rode out of town to hear the robin sing.
farmer spied he in peach-tree top,
Whose Ak and sawdid withered branches lop.
"Wisc man" thought he-the noble millionaire
'Those lifeess branches have no business there. 1"
Still On he rode; the birds SO sweetly sang,
His heart of JOY with blending cadence rang.
Ere long another husbandman he found,
Not In the tree but digging it around.
He saw, surprised. thetree-top fresh and fair
"Strauge man, - thought he-eagacious millionaire!
"Good friend' he spoke now refining up, ''thy toll
Seems thrown away, here delving in the soil.
Sound is the tree and good; trunk branch and twig
Then wherefore round It, tell me, dost thou digf'
'7o keep 1t So" he answered, digging still;
..Prevention's better'n cure; the wise mans PILL
Some wait till death doth fruit or limb attack,
Wat til they're robbed. then drioe the robosr back
And kill the evil ere 10 sight it grow.
But this, I've thought, is not your city way.
Your pardon, sir-my thought will have its play.
You feed the poor-the praiseis well your due
But while you feed the poor, yOu make them soo."
ave make the poor? How can it be, my friend
Do food and clothes to want and misery tend!
IF sought not these borers at the root.
Say who to blame for blasted tree and fruit"
"selfcursed the poor may blame themselves alone;
,,udomens and aoiU are conjurers Of thronel"
"If it be true the poor make poor themselves,
Then richest he who most industrious delvesi
And is it so? Full sure is he to rise!
Nay Selfish cunning grasps the golden prize.
Vain all your homes. ''asylums, and retreats,
The beggar still the beggar's part repeats;
And will through tme-save we grow wisely great,
And labor Oacns echdt labor doth create.
A farmer once a cellar dug, full deep,
And, well content, retired at night to sleep.
The morning came, and 10! his great vexation--
With water full he found the excavation.
To drain it low, he pumped for many day;
To keep it so, still pumps and pumps away"
.sThe toilng fool why tapped he not the vein.
Beyond the wall with well constructed drain?"
"Why tap not ye, the vein OF social wrong,
Whose waters rise so bitter, black and strongs
Perchance the farmer studied at thy school;
II he the mental, thou the moral fool.
His house he'll rear-as soon as thou shalt stay
The poor mans woes. and break the nights dismay.
Your schemes of good no solid dixie devise,
You pump and pump, while still the waters rise.'
"'Twas ever thus. Heavens ways are often dim;
Duty is ours-commit results to Him."
'Yet wiser far to dry the springs Of woe
Than strive forever to assuage their JJsoa0.
Not mine the faith that in the social law
It's maker fixed an everlasting f1aw,'
The millionaire hung down his head and thought:
"a cure for soGnt-and may this boon be soughtg'
And on he rode. Still sweetly sang the birds;
His ear heard only the aoise farmers CORDS
BOsTON. Mass