The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1872-08-23
Bret Harte's Last.
Mss nLAYcHK's RosE.

MISS BLAYcHEs RosH.
And You re the poet. and 50 yeu want
Someihins-w hat Is it, theme or fsnsys
Sonnet hing or OF her the muse won't grant
In your old poetieal necrcmancy
r;DonsSnsSths rsasa whHn 20 chance q ms'
ga, Ais s.. ~. q. &ses Z, and sigh ,s
When asA and Flood my be snnding hy.
Qutp at ypar service. sho9ld ssu but greet he
whatif rtold YOU my own romanees
Women are poets II You 5, take them,
0ne-third poet the rest what chance
OF man and marriage p-ay choose to max
Give me ten minutes before you go
Hgsat ~ window Wen SIT together; ~
NNchfng the currents that ebb n d dow. A
Natching the world as IL drifts below,
Up the hot avenues dusty glow
Wen, IL was after the war broke out,
% And was school girl. fresh frcm Paris.
Papa had contracts. and roamed about
And Ibid nothinr-for was an heiress:
Picked some lint now think. Perhaps
Knitted some stockings-a dozen early.
Havelocks made for the soldiers caps.
Stood at the fair-tables and peddled traps
Quite at profit. The shoulder straps
Thought was pretty. All. thank you. really!
Still. it was stupid. Ratata-tati
Those were the sounds of that battle summer.
Till the earth seemed parchment. round and
And every foot fall tap of q drummer:
And day by day down the avenue went
Cavalry. infantry. all together.
Till my plying angel one day sent
My fate in the shape of q regiment
That halted just as the day was spent
Here. at our door. in the bright June weather.
None 0: your dandy warriors they:
Men from me West, but where know not;
With never ribbon or lace. or bow-knot:
,.And | opened the window. and leaning there
Ny neck. end shoulders. and arms were bare
did not dream they might think me fair
But had some flowers that night in my hair,
ana here. IN my bosom. . red rose glowing.
And I looked from the window along tho line
Dusty and dirty, grim and solemn.
And z dark face grew from the darkenns
APPd = quick fash leaped to my eyes and
Till cheeks and shoulders burned altogether.
And the next found myself standing there
And the rose from my bosom tossed high in air,
Like eiood-drop falling on plume fnd feather
Then drew back quiekly-there came cheer,
rush Of figures. noise and tussle-
And then it was over. and high and clear
NY red rose bloonsd on Ass guns black mus
Then far in the darkness sharp voice cried.
And slowly and steadily. all together,
Shoulder TO shoulder. and side to side,
Rising and falling. and swaying wide
But beaming above them the rOse--my pride
Ihes marched away in the twilight weather.
And leaned from the window and watched my
rose ih M NV - ..
Tossed on the waves of the sureinr column.
Warmed from above in the sunset CLOVIS
Borne from below BY an impulse solemn.
nc Then | shut the windew. 7 beard no more
But lived my life as did before;
Lid nekge - nurss to the war ~ it1stga |
= Sick felix's to me are dreadful bore. IA
So dfdnt 50 TO the hospitals either.
You smile. o poet, and what do you?
fou lean from the windows. and watch Life's
Trsmpling and struG glinG through dust and dew,
Filled with its purpose grave md solemn; |
= And an act, sc stufe. D face who knows
Touches your fancy TO thrill and haunt you, /
And you pluck from your bosom the verse that
, And down it flies. like ny rsi. red rose. y, |
And you sit and dream as away it goes.
Ana think that your duty is done-now, don't |
sUu you? II gG lgd .ToNAEElN YIf's1T--fsl
know your answer. I'm not yet through:
Look ct the photo gaph--I In the Trehchesss-
That dead man in the coat Of blue IA II IA III
Holds q withered rose in his hand. That
Nothing Except that the san paints true,
And woman sometimes is prophetic minded.
And that's my romance. And. poet. you
faka u and mold il TO suit your view. .Ni
: And who knows but you may find it to Il
Come to your heart once more as mine did