Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1872-02-09
P0etr'y.
THE HEART or VIEW. s.vG L.s.rD.

long are years Of waiting when lovers hearts art
BY words that hold in life and dea h, and last the
half world round ., ,,,
Long long for him who wandcrs far and strives win
all his main, ,,.,.
But crueer yet for her who bides nt nome anu pu'
And lone are the homes Of New England.
iva. in the mellow summer heard her sweet reply
The barefoot lads aud iasses aberrying went by;
The locust diuned amid the trees; the fields were
The wbitesSied clouds against tin sky like ships
And blue are the skies # New England
Her ,ps were like the raspberrts her cheek soft
And little brcezcs stopped to lift the nnee Of her hair
A light was in her hazel eyes and hhe was nothing
TO hear the words her lover spoke, and pledged me
Aud i true is the word Of New England
When September brought the eoldcn-rod, and naples
And biuer than in August rose the village smoke and
higher,
pumpkins shone,--
ono hour, in which to say farewell, was left to
And sweet are the anes Of New England.
We loved each other truly! hard hard it to part
''Tis but year, my darling said ain one short
when our Western home is ready, shall seek my
Katie here;
And brave is the hope of New England.
went to gain home for her and in the Golden state
with head and hand planned and toed, and early
But luck was all against me- and sickness on me lay,
Aud ere got my strength again Twas many weary
Aud long are the thoughts Of New England.
And many day, aud many month, and thrice the
bravey stroye, and still the goal seemed yet
more
My Katies letters told me that she kept her promise
But now, r very hopelcssncss, my to her were
few;
sud stern is the pride of New England.
But still she trusted in me, though sick with hope de-
No more among tn village choir her voice sweet
est heard;
For when the wild nOrtheaser Of the fourth long vim
ter blew,
SO thin her frame with pnng, the cold wind pierced
Aud chill are the blasts Of New England.
At last my fortunes bettered on the far Pacific shore
And l thought to old Windham and my patient
love more:
When Linfman's letter reached me: Come at once,
come too late!
Your Eae's strength s falling; if you love her do
not wait:
come back to the cltos Of New England"
o. 1T wrung my heart with sorrow left all else be-
And straight for dear New England sreeded like the
wind.
The day and night were blended till l reached my
boyhond's home,
Aud the old cliffs seemed 10 mock me that had not
sooner come;
And gray are the rocka of New England.
could not think was Katie, who sat bcfor there,
Reading her Bible-'t my Pift-and piowed in her
chair.
ring, with all my letters, lay on a little stand
She could no longer wear IT, 50 frail her poor white
hand!
But strong s the love of New England
Her hair had lost it's tangle and parted off her
brow:
She used to be joyous gir-but seemed an angel
Heavens darling, mine longer; yet in her hazel
eyes
The same dear love-ght glisteneJ she soothed my
And pure is the faith of New England.
That drops it's petals one by one and sw' etens as 1t
goes.
Ny life was darkcned when at last her large eyes
closed in deah
And heard my own name whispered IS she drew her
parting breath.
still still was the heart Of New England.
1t was woful funeral the coming Sabbath-dsy;
We bore her to the barren hill which the graveyard
lay,
And when the narrow grave was filled, and what
might have done,
OF all the stricken group around the loneliest
And drear are the hills of New England,
gazed upon the stunted pines, the bleak November
And knew that buried deep with her my heart hence
forth would lie;
And waking in the solemn nights my thoughts still
thither go,
To Katie lying in her grave beneath the winter
And cold are the SHOWS Of New England
Edmund c. Stedmdn in January ATLANTIC.