The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1874-10-23
LOVE IN WINTkH.
ny ROBERT BUoHASAS.

when inter comes, too rate tWht DO
10 pluck the happy flowers.
II is maiden singing,
An ancient girl, IN sooth;
The dizzy room is ringing
With her shrill song Of youth;
The white keys sob a. swift she tries
Each shrill aud shrieking scale:
/. Oh. love ia like the roses :" cries
This muslined nightingale.
In a dark corner doing
close my eyes and ears,
And call up, while reposing,
glimpse from other years:
A genre-picture, quaint ana Dutch,
sea from this dark seat
,Tis full of human brightness, suoh
As makes remembrance sweet.
Flat leagues of endless meadows
On Holland lies the scene),
Where many pollard. shadows
DER nut-brown bitches lean;
Gray clouds above that never break,
Mists the pale sunbeams stripe.
With groups of steaming cattle, make
landscape " after Cuyp.'
A Windmill, and below it
4 colt age near road,
Whore some meek pastoral poet
Might make glad abode;
A cottage with d garden, where
Prim squares of pansies grow,
And, sitting on garden-chair,
A dame with locks of snow.
In trim black, trussed and bodied,
With petticoat OF red,
And on her bosom modest
A kerChlcf white bespread.
Alas! the breast that he8ves below
Ia shriyeled now and thin,
Though vestal thoughts "a white as snow
St-h paipitate within.
Hcr hands are mittened nicely,
Aud folded on her knee;
Her ips, that meot precisely,
Are moving quietly.
She listens while the dreamy bells
Ger the dark flats intaue-
Now come, now gone, in dying swells
The Sabbath-sOuuds are blown.
Her cheek withered rose Is,
Her eye violet dim;
Hall in her chair she doZes,
Aud huns happy hymn.
But soft what wonder makes her start
And lift her aged head,
Wnile the faiut tlutteriugs of her heart
Just touch h er cheeks with red?
The lstcn clicks through the gateway
An aged wight steps slow,
Then pauses, dotiing straightway
HIS broad-Orimmed gay chapeau!
Swsllow-tniled coat of blue so grand,
with buttons bright beside,
He wears, and in his trembling hand
nosegay, ribboL-tied.
His thin old legs trip lightly
In breeches of nankeeu,
His wri uliled face looks brightly,
50 rosy, fresh, aud clean;
For old he Is aud wrinkied plain,
With locks of golden gray,
And leaning on a tasseled cane,
He hobbies GA his way.
Oh, sky-larl;, singing over
The silent mill hard by,
To this so happy lover
stag out with summer-cry!
He hears thee, though his blood is cold,
She hears, though deaf aud weak;
She stands to greet him. as of old,
A blush upon her cheek.
In Spring-iime they were parted
BY some sad wind of woe
FOrioru and hr0ken-hearted
Zach faltered, long ago;
They parted: half century
Each took the path OF pain
lie lived bachelor, and she
Was never woOed again.
BJt when the Summer ended,
Wneu Autumn, too, was dead,
When every vision splendid
Of youth aud hope was fled,
Again thosc twain came face to face
As in he long ago:
They met within "A sunless place
IN the season OF the snow.
70 Oh. love is like the roses,
Love come ana love must feel
BEFORE the SUNNI closes
Love 4 rapture and loves glee ~
o. peace tor il the garden there
He bows IN raimeut gay,
DgIS hat, aud with "A courtly air
Presents ms fond bouquet.
Oue d5y IN every seven,
While church-br.ls softly riLg,
Ihe happy, si.eut heaven
1cuoids the sci same thing:
The gay old hoy "lgnin the gate,
Ni,h ribbons Ut lis knee;
80 Whom winter comes Is love too late ?"
o Cupid, look aud see
90, talk not If loves rapture,
When youthful lovers kiss
Htat mortal sight may capture
\ Ncenc 30 swte. as his?
Beside her now lac sits aud glows,
WAi'e prim she SITS aud proud,
Tren, spectacles upon MS nose
II ads the weeks news aloud!
Pur', with 40 touch Of passion,
frue, with no uuge OF pain
Thus IN sweet Sabbath-!a shiOn,
They live their love again.
She sees IN him happy boy
Swlft, agile, amOrOus-eyed
IL 'ees IA ter his own hearts joy
Youth, hope, love yiyihed!
Content there be SITS smoking
HIS long Dutch pipe Of wood
G05sipnig oft ana joking,
As gay lover should,
And Oft, while there in company
They smile for loves sweet sake,
Her spuif-box black she hands, and he
y grave, deep pluch doth take
There, gravely juvenesceut,
In sObcr oabbath-iOy,
Mirghng the past and present,
They sit, a maid aud boy
g. oh, love il Ike the roses mo!
Thou foolish singer, cease
Love finds his iireside mid the snow,
And smokes the pipe of peace
'Atie"dp's Magazine.
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