The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1873-01-09

dnd, more than all, the lovely form,
So rounded, yet so slender,
Re holds within his manly arms
With clasp so strong ard tender.
A wayy mass Of auburn hair,
A pale, clear brow adjoining;
And cheeks, whose blended red and white
Is fresh and fair as morning;
And ripe warm lips that know not how
To smile, aud smile and ''whadle,"
But now make music soft and low, .. .t.#.
AS fast she rocks the cradle. ........
The while she rocks he silent peers
Within the glowing cinders,
And pictures strange come Ia his eyes,
In sort of blazing flinders
A shadowy hand seems reaching down,
His lifes dark curtain lifting,
And all his past goes sweeping by
The hand tie scenery shifting. ts
at first he sees tall, white ship,
Tossed on the restless ocean,
A sad-faced tbrong upon its deck,
Swayed by the ceaselesS motion;
A sheeted corse laid out to wait
The hell's last solemn pealing.
A dark robed priest with upturned face,
Beside dead man kneeliDg.
A wild-eyed woman PROSTATE there,
Her hands, oh wildly wringing,
A barefoot boy around the neck
OF that crazed woman clinging;
She does net heed, she does not hear
The fond words be is saying,
She does not mark the BELLS low peal,
Nor list the voice of praying
She only clings to that cold corse
They to the sea are lifting;
She only sees it fall astern,
And downward go adrfting.
The barefoot boy has bravely tried
His swelling grief to smother;
But now his breaking heart bursts forth,
My mother oh, my motherv
And then, again, the pickering flame
Another picture psinted
Again he sees the barefoot boy,
Again the woman sainted;
But now, within q poorhOuse walls,
She day and night is raving;
And he for half O mouldy crust
All waking hours is craving.
A poor-house walls how little they
The sleek and we'll fed preachers,-
Know of the horde who gather there
AS childhood's early teachers;
The prowling thief, the gibbering sot,
Around the door yard crawling,
The tattered bag, the crazy fend,
And all together brawling.
And DER them all souless wretch,
Who scrapes a greasy living
The eounty's scanty giving;
Oh man that beings shaped like you,
Should with such hues be tinted.
Oh God that childnood's spotess page
Should with such dyes be printed
Again the Goals gave out glow,
Agar. the sceneryIshifted;
q narrow cell with bare, brown walls,
Before his fancy drifted.
a wretched cot, broken stool,
Are all its mean Gdornings,
But there that hapless mother pends
Her dismal nights and mornings.
She now is pacing to and tro,
Her hair by handfus tearing,
For to her tossed, beclouded soul,
The boy, sad words is bearing;
Her mind is crazed, bat still her heart
To that lone lad Is turning
with all of reasons balanced force,
All OF mothers yearning.
Though thin and pale, the boy has grown
By tour long years the older,
And now goes out to face the world,
Oh never world looked colder.
Ills heart is sinking in his breast
He has no father, brother
Yet he must go to make home
For his poor maniac mother.
she wildly walks, but on the floor
SO hare and Geld and cherries,
de kneels him down and asks of God
10 make him strong and fearless;
AT last he rises stout of heart
10 meet the worlds worst chances
men backward turns and outward goes,
With many lingering glances.
Another scene-a crowded street
In which the snow is falling
The lonely boy in tattered garb
The daily papers calling
''The Times, the Tribune, here they are,
And here's the morning Hurdld,
-Four cents! four cents and you've the new
From over all the wuraid."
The hurrying passers pause to buy.
First one and then another
And soon the lad has made home
For his distracted mother.
It is bare and scanty room,
crazy upper story,
But happier home had never king
In all his giIded glory.
For love lights up its dingy walls,
Its meagre hearth enkindles,
With fre that blazes night and day,
Nor once dies out or dwindles;
And--woodrous work This mighty love
The wealth the poor inherit
Like David's music, charms away
The demon from her spirit.
Another scene--it is the Last
The glowing embers blazan-
The last sad scene that comes to all -
That all with sadness gaze on;
Within that scanty upper room,
Where that love-light is burning,
a weary soul, with eager flight,
Is to its God returning.