Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1874-01-08

Lutte 4. TaylGr.
From 'The Milnight Lamp in Milwaukee

From THE MidnlEnt Lamp IN Milwaukee
Seniad.
From out the literary armament a
star is missing True. We walk IN the
reflection Of It's light even vet: but
the star that radiated it is gone from
our sight. It has not dropped JeIo0
the horison, thank God! but ',goae up
hiqIer." Gone out beyond our earth
" visions ken, but shining still in a
brighter bluer sky than ours.
The great poet-heart of Lutte A
TAYLOR will never again thrill to the
beauty of the summer flowers, or the
glory of the picture which the hand of
the sunset paints over blue arched
doorway of the western sky. The
song of birds, as heard by mortal ear,
viii never gladden. him again. To-day
the winter snow has almost hidden his
grave from sight, but his presence Is
still with US for the many pleasant
memories, and beautiful thoughts that
he has left behind him.
A poet in the truest significance of
the term, he was a most Gevout and
faithful worshipper at the shrine Of
Poesy. A perfect poem was his finest
conception of beauty, nor did he fail
to read of the poems which are written
by the hand Of Nature in the Great
Book of the Years. While he has
given many beautiful gems of thought
to the world. his heart was always full
to overflow with poems unwritten and
songs unsung." Let us hope that
they will find utterance in that other
country, where there is no pain,
neither sorrow nor tears.
This is has idea Of poem:
poem should be round. and perfect as 4 star,
Aud full Of beauty, with truth beaming:
No vicious thought or ugly phrase should mar,
BUT, ike spring flowers in meadows cleaning,
1t should shine out i'll brightness and in SPLEEN
dor,
And be as holy pure and fair.
As fall Of light and love,an tender
As far girls eyes or saints sweet prayer.
In an article bearing date as far
back as 1850, [ find these beautiful
lines from his pen, under the heading
of christmas :"
Eighteen hundred and SIXTY years
ago, at Bethlehm in Judea, was born
an infant Of humble parentage. With
that Child was born into the world a
new civilization, a new Christianity, a
new hope. It matters little for our re-
joicing whe ther this Child was hui
man or divine whether he was God or
Gods messenger of love to man.
Christian an iufdel alike agree that
the life he lead was pure and blame
less, and the principles he taught have
blessed and sauctifed the world.
The world offers no more sublime
spectacle than the growth Of the re-
ligion Of Jesus Of Nazareth We look
back through the long centuries to the
time when the wise men sought bis
l0wly couch, and the sword menaced
his life: we trace his humble life,
stand in awe at the sublimity Of his
death, and henceforth we see this new
religiot1-this religion which brings
life and Immortality to light, which
lights up the future with indescribe-
able glories, which binds man in a
common brotherhood with God as the
Common Father which bends loving
| ly &c the lowIiest heart, and whispers
that Divine tenderness and love cares
fer us all.-this religion makes steady
progress, conquering by It's inherent
force and winning upon the heart by
It's adoption to all its needs, until to-
day It's temple spires cleave the air in
every civilized land, its gospel is daily
preached in millions Of homes, and its
principles are recognized as the only
basis upon which the structure of gov
ernment or society can safely rest.
I feel that / have no need to crave
the indulgence Of the reader to peruse
these annexed extracts from the pen Of
the dead poet
':For a few evenings past our village
has been most splendidly illuminated,
not by gas-Iight, nor by fireworks
gotten up by any human pyrotechnist,
but by the Queen of Night, and all
the hosts of stars that troop through
heaven like unrobed angels, gemming
the brow Of Evening, and making he,
beautiful as a bride. We never saw
such radiant beauty in other chime.
It seemed TO us the flowers could not
sleep, but were only dreaming.
The beauty Of Night is more spirit
ual than that of Day, There is les:
noise, less garishness. the Imagination
acts more freely, we put off the 'hard
armor' we ware in the days battle with
the world, let fancy run free, anc
thought subside with reverie. While
thus drinking in the beauty Of earth
we shall unconsciously look up
To that Cathe lral, boundless as our wonder,
Whose shining lamps the sun and moor
It's e9dir, s5SF,' the winds and waves. it organ
thunder,
It's dome, the sky,
There are more kinds of death
than one. There is the death of the
body, when sad farewells are spoken
when eyelids droop over sightless eyes
and pale lips close over voiceless
mouths, when in silence and mid sor
row the stern agony is endured, anc
the light and warmth of life is ex
changed for the shroud, the pail, the
breathless darkness, and the narrow
house. This death alone is inevitable
But, as sunlight often gilds the
mountains top, around whose loWel
sides dark clouds are drifting, SO il