The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1873-11-14
THE OLD BARN.
BY ALFREp b. STREET.


The ghostly old barn, with its weather-stained
frame,
In it's narrow green lane, cut in parallel tracks,
Where the heavy-wheeied wagon passed through
It's broad folding-doors and the stable door next
Aud the roof, soaring up in gloom,
Save the network Of light from the knot-holes and
chinks, -
which scarce could the darkness illume.
The hay-mow, how fragrant and welcome its
scent
How soft and elastic the hayl
The hooks, what safe coVerts LOT hiue-anu-go
seek :"
The floor, what platform for play
On that floor, like the beat OF the pulse, went the
And the huskers the corn how they hulled
And. when ceased the husking, how merry the
Till the stars in the day break were dulled
Next the ysllow-brimmed oat-bn the straw-cutter
The barrel Of chat by its side;
And cas,-away pillow, broken of at the top
With clay-stans all over 1t dyed
A shade. a cleft grindstone, a saw-buck and cask,
With brace of bright pitchforks stood near;
And envied the strength that the loads to the loft
With their crescent-bent handles could rear.
oh, what though the storm clustered hercely with
out,
And the hail as from cataputs flew?
There dOzed the meek secure in their stalls
And, with Crumple, did nothing but chew.
There chanticleer roamed with his partlets about
Each scratching and snatching the seed;
And the pigeons flew in on their silken-toned
wings
Twas picture Of comfort, indeed!
A rough harness streamed from peg in a beam,
saddle sat, bride hung, nigh;
And the road-wagon stood, bright satin, beside,
With its sver-plate trappings near by.
Next champed the two steeds and what trotters
they were
And counted it one of my joys
To ride them with halter, barebacked to the pond
Then with the rest of the boys.
The lane in the summer how greenly it smiled,
With its milk-weeds and tall mulloin-spears!
There l sliced the long pumpkin vines, wreathed
through the fence,
For trumpets that deafened all ears.
And the pumpkins, what lanterns they made, to be
sure
What mouths, and what noses and eyes
And when on my head famed the horrible face,
How the household resounded with cries!
In the sunset, how jolly to hop. skip and jump,
And run a swift race TO and fro;
Or search in the NOW and the manger for eggs,
And pocket them closely from show
In the dusk what clear fun to chase ightnlng-ougs
round,
The beetle to strike from ts fight;
Or baw out, " Bat, bat, come into my hat;
Or play tag deep into the night.
Ugh! the hornet, the big, yellow hornet, we
stunned;
And the honey-bee placed under ban;
And the butterfly found little grace; how we
laughed
As he opened and folded his fan!
And the queer, square-legged grasshopper chirping
around,
How we made him disgorge his brown wine!
Oh boy is tyrant, as men are, IN sooth,
Should fortune bright toward them incline.
Old Crumple, so sure as she came to the pail,
We stoned till she waddled away;
What cared we for Molly? secure in the weeds,
We laughed as she searched where we lay
And old 1om purring softly, at peace ON the post
How close grazed the clam-shells we SHE'D,
Till he heightened his frame in galop for life,
While mirth brought the stitch to our side?
And the brave little bantams, with falchions of
How peaed forth his challenging cry
Till the pride of the barnyard came strutting slow
Then the hght-how the feathers would fly.
All the fierce, burning glow of the soldier we felt
As they fought, while with awiulest yell
We capered. and felt to jump ont of our skins,
Till one, if not both OF Them fell.
tanglc Of vistas the old barn displayed,
with its bins and its barrels, and all
Where the spoiled, banished rocking-horse glanced
like "A ghost,
And the ladder leaned narrow and tall;
All still, save the saw of the carpenter-rat,
And tine drone of the wasp on the walls;
Slight hoof-stamps, and rustings that ran through
the hay.
And munchings that came from the stalls.
But alas the old barn has long since passed away
The lane has been turned to street,
And the fields into court-yards and gardens Of
flowers:
All is new-all is strange that meet
All is shrunken in size, and tie distances, too
The pond at the wood il near by;
And the long fence 1 trembed to skirt in the night,
As pass II, scarce catches my eye.
The old barn is gone like the past with its dreams,
Which crowded, chaotic, my brain;
All are gone-all are gone and yet often wish
l could live in their Eden again.
Though the barn, low and dark, is dwelling of
mark,
And the lane is street wide and bright,
Yet long to go back to that paradise track,
All flashing and living with light.
AL are gone-all are gone the soft pictures I
draw,
Not one has Times cruelty spared.
All are gone and wonder and smile to myself
That for such things l ever have cared.
Yet somehow they bear in their presence glow
That the present can never display;
IT'S the hight in the urn alabaster of youth
That soon fades forever away.
And in that sweet light the heart grows pure and
bright
In the paradise smiling around;
And we wish, DER and DER, we were children once
more,
And roaming that magical ground.
It's scenes, how grotesque, and how trivial and
tame!
And yet as upon it we dwell,
Like the pools OF Bethesda, it freshens the heart,
And briGhtens our thoughts with spell.
-Appict0iS Journal.