The Huntington argus. [volume] (Huntington, W. Va.) 1872-1905, 1873-02-22

wv Sos' eiau' ua1Lilug CITY,
our dusky roof aud looming crown tL,t
shut the ky out from US not more gloomy
sud impenetraole than they had been on
ali those other earlier nights when vet We
had been happy. Yet how intensified mil
lon-foli seemed cold and Loneliness and
poverty and darkness, all for We had for
sh first time known what it was to think
Ut riches OF fame, OF homage, OF light,
- possible and then to loose them ali lor-
everl
had been resigned for loves .ake to
iwell amongst the roofs, seeing not the
faces of the stars, nor feeling even the inll
glory OF the sun; but now had dream
ei OF the fair freedom OF sardeu-ways and
the endless light OF summer suns on palace
terraces, and dropped aad shivered and
.lckenel, and was twice captive and twice
sviled; and knew that was a little name
less, worthless, haple-s. thing. whose fair
st chaplet OF blossom no hand would ever
gather for a crown.
As with my life, so was il likewise with
theirs
They had been so poor, but they had been
~ happy the poverty remained, The joy
had flown.
That winter was again very hard, very
aold; they suffered iyeatly.
They could scarcely keep together body
sud soul, as your strange phrase runs they
went without !ood sometimes for day vs.. aud
lays, and fuel they had scarcely ever.
The bird in his cage was sold; they
would not keep the little golden singing
thing to starve to silence like them
selves
As for me. nearly persisted OF cold on
ly the love bore to Lii kept li;tle lie in
my eailess branches
All that cruel winteriime they were
strong still, those children of Paris
For tlsey sought no aims, and in their
ntiermo-t extremity neither Of them ever
whispered to the other, "Go seek the temp
ter; repent, be wise Give not up our lives
Tor mere phantasy OF honor
when the snow is on the ground. and
the canyases have to burn in the stove
ihen You will change your minds aud come
So me on your knees the old wicked, foul
.pirit had said hooking them. as he had
opened the door OF the attic aad passed
away creakng down the dark stairs
And suppose he had reckoneI on this
but it he had done so lac had reckonel
without his host, n your phrase runs
neither Rene nor Lii ever went to him,
either on knees or in any other wise.
When the spring came we II rec were
.tIll all livng-at least their hearts still
beat aud their lids still drew breath, as my
Loughs were still green and my roots stilI
c.ung to the soil. But no more to them or
TO me did the coming of spring bring. as Of
ODD, the real living Of life, which is joy
And my lover the wind wooed me no more,
sud the birds no more brought me the
rose-whispers Of my kindred in Provence
For even the little pigeon hole in the roof
had bee me too costly home for us, and
We dweIt in a den under the stones OF the
streets where no light came and scarce
breath olaIr ever strayed to us
There the uncompleted canva-es on
which the painter whom Lii loved had
tried to write his title to the immortality
Ut fame, were at last finished finished, for
the rate ate them.
All this while we liyed-the man whose
genius and misery were he'll on earth, the
woman whose very purity and perlectness
OF love were her direst torture and /, the
.tttle white Hover born Of the sun and the
Jew, OF fragrance aud freedom, to whom
',ery moment Of this blindness, this -uHo
cation, ,li- starvation, this stencil OF put
ri doors, this horrible roar Of tie street
ABOVE, was a moment worse than tIc pans
of ieaih.
Away there in Provence So many "a fair
ro.e.si-ter Of mine bowel her glad, proud.
innocent head with anguish aud shpiI,g-
iog terror to the sharp summons Of the
.eyeriue knife Chat cut in twain her life.
whilst III. on aud on-wa- forced TO keep
- much Of ..'a as lies in the capacity to
suffer and 70 love in vain
So much wac ic't to them no more.
Let us compel death 90 remember u-.
,uce even death 'orceis us Rene muir
mmci once in hi. despair TO her
But Lii had pressed her smishei lips
d d