Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1872-01-08
For the Monitor.
The Drunkards's Grave.

The sable veil of night was drawn,
The weary, weary, weary day to close;
And darksome shades were creeping on
To guard the hour of sweet repose;
The moon was hidden by cloud,
The breezes sighed and .noaned aloud.
Out in the dark is lonely FORM
With tottering steps and fearful eyes:
And needing not the gathering storm,
Or dark and angry clouds that rise
Long years have silvered DER her hair
And marked her cheek and brow with care.
The cold, damp dews were falling fast,
And loudly shrieked poor whip-po-wil
But all unheeding as she passed,
Her lonely course was onward still.
In yonder church yard is a mound
There, weeping, she may next be found.
thoughtless boy had passed-but gave
scornful look-and paused to say
Its nothing but a drunkard's grave"
And IDLY cast stone that way
A dru'lkards grace All, yes but there
Lie buried hopes and prospects fair.
Is 1t the murmuring of the breeze?
Is 1t the night winds playing round,
Amid the branches of the trees?
NO, no; it's sob of deep despair;
mothers heart is breaking there.
That form that meath the cold earth lies,
Was once lovely, hopeful boy,
with silken hair and laughing eyes,
mothers pride, a mothers joy;
And fondly to her loving breast.
Her darling child with iov she pressed
And filled with rapture pride, and love,
Her bud Of hope she watched with care.
For pure as angel hearts above
Was that young life-so bright and fair;
Its life unfOlded day by day,
AS opening buds their sweets display.
Time fits away on rapid wings,
And touches him with magic power,
And quickly strength and manhood brings,
And he's no more half blown flower;
The mothers heart now overfows
With joy which a mother only knows.
Now forth he goes to do and dare
Upon the battlefield Of life,
To mingle with its busy care,
And battle in the noisy strife
On, on, to conquer and to save,
Amid the bravest of the brave.
Friends cluster round the hero now;
In fortunes halls he finds name,
And on that noble manly brow
Is placed the laural wreath of fame,
Reason is seated on her throne,
And Genius smiles her power to own.
Alas, alas; a change comes DER
This noble work; and he who stood
Upright, erect, and firm before
Honored by men and loved by Cod
Was left wreck, and sin and blight
Crushed oat that life so fair and bright.
Where now Is reasons mighty throne?
Where is that noble, manly brow;
All, whittier have those bright hopes flown,
Or where that flash of genius now?
scorched by the 'vine cups fiery breath;
Dragged down by sin and shame to death.
Where, whore is she whose fond heart bled:
Who pledged her love with joy and mirth?
Her sw eetest pleasures quickly fed;
Her bright hopes persisted at their birth;
Her life-bark trembled on the wave,
Then sank into peaceful grave.
And there, beside that mound of clay,
The mother sheds her bitter tears
Ger moth, and mildew, and decay,
And blighted hopes of former years.
Cease, faltering words; o where's thy power
To tell the anguish of that hour?
Poor fallen one. however deep
Thy soul is stained by sin and shame,
There's one who DER thy grave will weap;
There's one who'll love thee still the same
Although thy sun in darkness set;
Thine angel mother loves thee yet.
The cold. proud world may pass thee by
With curling lips and naughty tread:
And some may look with pitying eye.
Upon the drunkard's humble bed.
But those who lursd thee down to shame
VIII soon forget to speak thy name.
It's morn the storm has passed away;
That mothers heart will throb no more:
On her cold, pale form the damp dews Law:
Her grief is past, her sorrows DER:
She wept DER him whose life she gave,
And persisted on the drunkard's grave
Three quiet graves ranged side by side
The busy world will soon forget
The mother son, and youthful bride
Sleep on,-their graves unmarked-and yet
They tell a tale Of deep despair,
And say: o thoughtless youth, beware!
ANNA L. MERRILL
Barton Landing IT. jan l. 1872.