The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1870-08-04
[From the Atlantic Monthly.l
DOROTHY IN THE GARRET.

In the low-raftered garret, STOPPING
Carefully over the creaking boards,
Old Maid Dorothy goes a-groping
Among its dusty and cobwebbed boards;
Seeking some bundle of patches, hid
Far under the caves or bunch OF sage,
Or satchel hung on its nail, amid
The heirlooms Of a bygone age.
There is the ancient family chest,
There the ancestral cards and hatchel;
Dorothy, signing sinks down to rest
Forget ul OF patches sage and satchel.
Ghosts of faces peer from the gloom
Ofthe chimney, where, with swifts and reel,
Ana the long-disused, dismantled loom,
stands the old-fashioned spinning-wheel.
She sees it back in the clean-swept kitchen,
A part of her girlhood's little world;
Her mother is there by the window, stitching;
spindle DuzZes, and reel is whiTled
With many click: on her little stool
She sits, child, by the open door,
Watching and dabbling her feet in the pool
Ofsunshine spilled on the floor,
Her sisters are spinning all day long;
To her wakening sense the first sweet warning
OF daylight come, in the cheerful song
To the hum Of the wheel in the early morning.
Benjie, the gentle. red-cheeked boy,
On his way to school, peeps In at the gate;
In neat, white pinafore, pleased and coy
She reaches hand to her bashful mate
And under the elms, prattlng pair
Together they go, through glimmer and gloom
1t all comes back to her, dreaming there
In the low-raftered garret-room;
The hum OF the wheel and the summer weather,
The hearts first trouble, and loves beginning,
Are all in memory linked together;
And now 1t is she herself that is spinning.
With the bloom of youth h on cheek and lip,
Turning the spokes with the flashing pin,
Twisting the thread from the spindle-tip,
- Stretching 1t out and winding 1t in,
n hpSnmn tread
singing she goes, and her heart is full,
And many q long-drawn golden thread
Of fancy Is spun with the shining WOOL
Her father sits in his favorite place,
Putting his pipe by the ehimney-side
Through curling clouds his kindly face
CLOVIS upon her with love and pride.
Lulled by the wheel, in the old armchair
Her mother is musing, cat in lap,
With beautiful dropping head, and hair
Whitening under her snow-white cap.
One by one, to the grave, to the bridal,
They have followed her sisters from the door :
Now they are old, and she is their idol -
1t all comes back on her heart once more.
In the autumn dusk the hearth CLEANS brightly,
The wheel is set by the shadowy WALL
A hand at the latch,-'t is lifted lightly,
And in walks Benjie, manly and tall.
His chair is placed; the old man tips
The pitcher, and brings his choicest fruit;
And tells his story and Joints his fute.
o, sweet the tunes, the talk, the laughterI
They fill the hour with n Glowing tide.
But sWeeter the still. deem moments after
When she is alone by Benjie's side.
But once with angry words thev mart.
q then the weary. weary daysi
Ever with restless wretchSd heart
PLYING her task. she turns To gaze
ornn 1he road and early and late
She horIys fora footsten az The door
And starts at the gust that SWINGS fhe rate.
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