The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1874-04-25
MAILS ARRIVE.
(From the Atlantic Monthly for May
Rachel as the We'll.

tFrom the Atlantic Monthly for MaNl
Rachel IL, the Wei.
BY j. =. TRowBRIDGE
BY an elm tree half decayed
In skeleton OF shade
From the bird rorsaken bough5,
With the melancholy stains
OF a century OF rains,
And Its quaintly-mended pane,
Stands the house.
From the modern street alooi
1t uprears its olden roof
In the sleepy summer air;
And the shadow falls across,
And the sunlight sheds gloss
on the patches of old moss.
Here and there.
Near the gate that guards the lane,
with It's rusty hinge and chain,
Hangs half shut, the crippled wicket.
Lilac clumps, beyond the wall,
Grow neglected, filling all
The wild dooryard with tall,
Tangled thicket.
There's little path between
The encroaching ranks OF green;
Then garden, half grown over
With the striped grass and poppies red;
There the suntlower hangs her head;
And you scent somewhere bed
or sweet clover.
There Is fennel mixed with phlON;
And. with pinks and hollyh0cks,
Here the mistress of the place,
In her lone and widowed age,
Keeps her caraway and sage.
Immemorial heritage
or her race.
Midway from the darkencd gable
To the battered barn and stable,
Is the well; and there, aslant,
Warped and cracked with sun and rain.
stands the well sweep in the lane
On It's one leg, like a crane,
Long and gaunt
In her ancient bombazlne,
And her hood OF faded green
From the kitchen, on her crutch,
Comes the widow with her pail;
In the hook she hangs the ball.
Ana tne well sweep gives wall
At her touch.
With dismal, wailing creak,
Like an almost human Shrek,
Down the slow sweep goes, and up
Brings the wavering pail once more;
While In yellow pinaforc
Runs her grandchild from the door,
With cup.
Grandcnlld, did / say? Behold
Like fleece OF living gold
Just let loose from fairy land.
Half TO perfect beauty spun,
And half flying In the sun,
Making sun and shadow one,
See her stand
In old Rachel can there be
Aught akin to such as she?
winters snow and summers glow!
POOR old Rachel, bent and thin,
Withered cheeks and peaked chin,
Has outlived all other kin
Long ago.
From the curb, with many groan,
Comes the bucket to the stone:
Ana the crutch is in Its place;
Ana now, pauSing at the brink,
For the elf TO dip and drink,
she. poor soul, must breathe and think
For space,
10! the cloudy years. they part
Like morning mist; her heart
For moment Is beguiled
by sad fancies thronglng fast
She beholds the glowing past,
Her own glrlish Image, glassed
In the child.
And will ever that sweet elf
BE creature like herself
Bowed with age and grief ana care?
can such freshness fade away
lOl pHanJOm OF decay
Golden tresses, to gray
Ghost of hair?
IT was but yesterday she saw
Her own grandam go to draw
water, Will her pail and crutch,
Ana she wondered to behold
One so pitifully old
Eighty years, when all Is told,
are not much.
Like vision OF the dawn,
iouth appears, and youth is gone;
from four summers TO four score
IS dream. " Is ever So
Roses come and roses go,
Roses fade and roses blow,
EYermOre.
Ruined petals strew the walk:
Laughing buds are on the stalk;
Mighty nature Is cOnsoled.
Surglng lie no bounds can stay;
Beauty Hoods the young ana gay;
Lie ana beauty ebb away
From the old.
We are figures on the loom
out o. darkness into gloomJ
we nut hit across the frame;
ana the gnomes that toll within
z IRE not for the web they spin;
Fer ending. they begin
sun the same.
" iiiS ohu hdtnti uiulll pttlS
L trough the gllmmerlng fim of years.
There the grandchlld, all aglow:
STOPPING, dipping, sees by chance
Her oW n merry countenance
In the water wave and glance
To and fro.
Tossing arms and glecful scream
Startle Rachel from her dream;
And as sunshine in dark seas
Glld5 some lone and rocky isle,
ON the wrinkled face the while
Rests heavenly light, smile
or deep peace.
Ia her love she lives again
Worlds may pass, II love remain,
And the soul Is recOnciled
Rachel knows not age nor care,
Life and hope are everywhere,
as her heart goes out In prayer
For the child
Little fingers drop the cup,
Which old Rachel must take up:
Rachel, smiling, stoops with pain.
While away the maiden hies,
After birds and butterflies,
Clapplng hands with happy cries,
Down the lane.
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