Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1874-05-28
THE WEEKLY HERALD
riHLi>HED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.

PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING.
ffss' tsSk. FISK Bros, Publishe
III" Atlantic Monthly for May
RACHEL AT THE WE'LL.
ny !. rRow BRIDGE.
Ey an elm tree half decayed,
III a skeleton Of shade
From the hird-forsaken houyhs.
With the melancholy stains
OF a century Of rains,
And its quantity -mended panes,
Stands the house.
From the modern street aloOf,
II upreans it's sOlden 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 its rusty hinge and chain.
Hangs, half shut, the crippled wicket
Lilac Clump-, beyond the wall.
SFoW neSItCtcu. MING all
The wild dOOryartl with tall,
Tangled thcket.
There's little path between
The enCroaChiny ranks of green:
Then garden, bali grown over
With striped grass and pOppics red
There the sunhower hangs her head;
And you scent somewhere bed
OF sweet clover.
There is fennrl mixed with phlox;
And. with pinks and hOllyhOCks.
Here the mistress of the place.
In her lone and widowed age.
Keeps her caraway and sage.
lllmcImOrial heritage
OF her race.
Midway from the darkened gable
To the battered barn and stable,
II the well: and there. aslant.
Warped and cracked with sun and rain.
Stands the well sweep in the lane,
On its one les. like crane,
Long and gaunt.
In her ancient bombazinc.
And her hood of faded green,
From the kitchen. on her crutCh,
Comes the widow with her pail:
In the hook she hangs the bail:
and the well sweep gives wall
At her touch.
With dismal. wailing creak.
Like an almost human shrek.
Down the slow sweep goes. and up
Frings the wavering rail once more;
While in yellow pinafore
Runs her grandchld from the door,
With cup.
Grandchild, did say. Behold!
Like fleece Of living gold
just let loose from fairy land,
Half to perfect beauty spun.
Half flying i'm 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. bert and thin.
Withcred checks and peaked chin,
Has ontived all other kin
Long ago.
From the curb, with many a groan,
Comes the bucket to the stone:
And the crutCh is in it's place;
And now, pausing at the brink.
For the elf to dip and drink,
She. poor soul. must breathe and think
For space.
10. the Clondy years, they part
Like morning mist: her heart
For moment Ii beguiled
by sad fsncies thrOngins fast
She bcholds the glowing past
Her own girliah image, glassed
In the child
And will ever that sweet elf
BE creature like herself
Bowed with age and grief and care1
Can such freshness fade away
To phantom of decay
Golden trcssCs, to gray
Ghost OF hair?
Twas but yesterday she saw
Her own grandma 20 to draw
Water, with her pail and crutch.
And che wondered to behold
One 40 pititully old:
Eighty years. when all is told,
Are not much.
Like a vision of the dawn.
Youth appears. and youth II gone:
From for summers to four score
Is dream! "Tis ever 70
Roses come and rOses 90,
Roses fade and roses blow.
kvcrmorc.
NuiIeN EetalS StTcW the Walk
Laughing buds arc on the stalk;
Mighty nature il cOnsOled,
Surging life no hounds can stay:
Beauty floods the Young and gay;
Life and beauty cbh away
From the Old.
We are figurcs on the loom
Uut Of darkness into gloom,
We but dit across the frame;
And the gnOmes that toll within
are not for the yeb they spin;
Ever ending. they begin
Still the samc.
While sad Rachel dim!y peers
Through the glimmerinX film Of yearr,
, There the grandchild. all aglow,
dipping, eccs by chance
!ier own merry C0untenance
In the water ws.. and glance
To and trU.
! ossing arMs and g.eclul scream
>tartie Rachel frUn her dream:
And NJ s''~sh'ne IN dark scsa
'iids come lone ami rocty isle.