Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 186?-1872, 1871-03-11
For the Chronicle.
THE CAPTivE's APPEAL.

I Thc rIOriun INDIANS have an old lcgen,
ofspirlts, who, for some disc obetlie wer
condemned to lose their memory OF tn,
past, and to undergo an existence upoi
earth rs n race Of birds. At death, the,
again return, purified, to Heaven.
Stranger, a captive. 1 appeal to thee,
To open my cage and set me free,
For something within me rebels agains
chains,
And I long for the land of the evergreen
palms.
There. on the edge OF the tropic zone,
Amid the beauties it calls It's own,
The waiving moss OF the live oak grand.
And the orange gioves OF the summel
land;
Where the feathory palms In beauty rise,
Awakening dreams OF Paradise;
Where the Fountain OF Youth, in ts silver
fiow,
Asit leaves the mystic caves below,
Rises 10 see the light OF Heaven,
Or mirror the stnrs that God has given,
Like flowers OF light In the central dome,
To guide his wandering angels home!
There, where the seas wild undcrtone
Weds with the pines majestic moan;
Where the magnolia blooms and the cy.
press waves
Its mossy branches above the graves
or DcsOto's men. who wildly thought
To find n life their fancy wrought;
There was my home, and, oh how long
10 listen again to my fathers song:
Oh !lct me go,
There. where glancing moon bcams culver
On tha al n rE linn - fN,t.
My mothers voice, fearful and low,
Is wailing out In ccaselcss woe,
Oh stranger. let me 20!
Thcre, 'bove the waters OF silver spring,
Our nestlings used to sit and swing
SIT and swing 'mongst the broidereI leaves,
And ponder the thoughts that fancy
weavcs
Clear and pure, for never n stain
Has suilicd the thought of n brides brain
Since first the cycles of time began,
Or angels have wept DER the crimes OF man.
Rises their wall gro day be dawn;
Rises their wall on tho morning breeze:
Rises their vail at the even hour
And when the darkness hides the trees.
Oh, Godl what have they done, those sim
less ones,
To merit the woe they feel?
Go. ask for mercy from stocks and stones,
But not from the tyrant's heel:
Stranger, dear, to you Is given
The spark OF love from plying Heaven!
Mercy, to me, In my deepest woe,
Stranger, .! stranger, let me go.
And, then, there was one, whose every tone
Awakened II joy that was all mine own,
For when love once enters the pure, sweet
breast,
IL never may leave I'LL the final rest:
iea, never Til God, from the great white
throne,
Shall issue His mandate calling us home;
Yea, never can time or eternity part,
When God has united the pure In heart;
No song OF my mate In the rice fields fair,
Fer gladdens the heart of the reaper there;
But, far away In the cancbrake damp,
DR. deep In the wild palmetto swamp,
Ever, aud ever, In mate despair,
with folded wings, she Is sitting there
sitting and waiting. and waiting for me
for that which may never.bc;
Never cry, never n groan
From the throat OF her love,
But ever a sigh, and ever n moan,
Is eating away like u canker-worin
AT the heart OF my light, my love.
D, stranger, see by the light In thine eye
That Justice, and mercy, and truth stili
iivc,'
But reels my brain. and the time draweth
nigh,
When memory wakes, and the gates of
the sky
viii opon for mercies God only can give.
iliinpscS l catch OF u holier land,
Than ever the feet OF mortality trod;
iiimpses OF spirits. n mystical band,
Who silently walt on tn. Lcthoan strand,
% carry us home to the bosom OF God.
AWAY goes the cloud, % Col, and sce
he benuteous world of the past
hat ever, and ever, forever shall be
! heaven Of rest to you and to me,
While time and eternity last.
J. NJ. PEFrER.
Miahawaka, Ind, Feb. Is, 1871.