Huntington advertiser. [volume] (Huntington, W. Va.) 1874-1921, 1875-06-17
Poetical.
INTROSPECTIoN.
BY ARNOLD.


Have ron sent her all her letters? have you giver
her back her ring
Have you tried TO forget the haunting sing yot
loved TO hear her sing?
Have you cursed the day YOU met her first, thank
ed God that you were free,
And sal in your inne ermost heart, as you thought
she never was dear TO me
You have cast her on, your pride Is toucneu, yot
fancy that all IL done;
That for you the world is bright again, and brave
ly shines the sur.
You have washed YOUR hands OF passion, you
have whistled her down the wind;
oh, Tom, Old boy ] this goes before, the sharp
est comes behind.
Yes; the sharpest Is yet TO come, for love Is
plant that never dies;
It's roots are deep as the earth Itself, It's branche:
broad as the skies,
And whenever once II has taken root, II nour
ishes evermore,
Blossomlng still, aud bearing Its beaut1ul run
with the bitter core.
You will learn this. Tom, hereafter. When an
ger has cooled. and YOU
Have time for introspection, you VIII md my
words are true.
You will sit and gaze in your Ore alone, ant
fancy that you can see
Her face with its cisssic ovals-hcr ringlets nut
tering free;
Her soft blue eyes wide open, her sweet red LIP:
apart,
AS she used to look in golden days, when you
dreamed she had heart.
Whatever you do, where ever you turn, you viii
see that glorious flce,
Coming with shadowy beauty, to haunt all time
and space.
Those songs you wrote for her singing, will sing
themselves into your brain,
Till your life seems set TO their rythm, youl
thoughts 10 their refrain,
Their old, old burden Of grief and love, the pass
ion YOU had forsworn-
| tell you Tom II Is not thrown or so well as you
think this morn.
But the worst, perhaps the worst OF all, VIII be
when the day has iiown;
When silence favors reflection, and your com
rades leave You alone.
You will try to sleep, but the memories OF un'
forgotten years 9.
VIII come with a storm OF wild regret, mayhap
with storm OF tears.
Each look, each word, each playful tone, each
tmid little caress;
The golden CLEAN Of her ringlets, the rustling ol
her dress,
The delicate touch OF her ungloved hand, that
aW oke such an exquisite thrill,
The flowers she gave you the night OF the ball
think You treasure them still.
All these will come till you slumoer-Worn ou'
by sheer dispair,
And then YOU will hear vague echoes OF song on
the darkened air;
Vague echoes rising and falling, OF the voice you
know so WELL
maids-sweet with deadly spell.
In dreams. her heart viii ever again be yours
aud you Will see
Fair glimpses of what nigh: have been-what
now can never be.
And, as she comes to meet you, win q suuden
wild unrest
You stretch your arms forth, lovingly, to clasp
her 20 your breast;
The Lurlie-song will faint and die, and with 1t,
faihtng tones
You wake TO tnd, you clasp the thin and empty
air alone;
While the i!fe-bels changing dessonance on the
gusty night-win'i borne,
VIII seem an i.un-loBgued demons voice laugh
ing yolr q l"i 70 sco n.
On, Tom, you say 1t Is over! You talk OF letters
anu 4Ihg>.
Do YOU ihnk tha, loves mighty spirit, then, is
held by such tri1ng iungsP
No: If vou once have truly loved. you VIII still
love on, know,
Till the church ward myrtle blossoms aoove, ah'
YOU lie mute below.
How il u. wonder, hereafter? Faith teachc;
us little here,
or the ones we have loved and lost on ea;th.-
Do Won think they will still he dear!
Shall we lead he lives wemight have led? Shal
thuu who az severed now,
Remember he people OF lower sphere, ana re-
new the h. oxen vow?
II almos, d.ivcS me mad, when think OF the
Gifts We m Ow away;
UpthinSing whether We lose, or no, mes honey
and NiIe Tor aye;
But !hcn again It's a mighty Joy, greater than
can tell,
To think the, the parted may meet again, ani al
NAV again he vel.
However It be, hold that all the evil We know
on earth
F!nls in mis- violence done 10 love, its true and
Legitimate birth;
And the agones we suffer when the heat is
lefi alone,
For any sin nf humanity, mag fully and vel
atone.
see you marvel greatly, TIm, to hear sucl
words nom me;
But. II YOU could know nv inncrmost heart
'twnuli be no mystery.
Experience is better but It's teachings we re-
tain:
II has tancht me this. "Who once has loved, loves
u.ves on cI' "a again
And |. have my closet, with its ghaSt,y fo:m In
side.
The skeleton OF persisted love, Killed by crne
sit by The fire, at evening, as you viii sometimes
si..
md watch. in the roseate h4lf-light the ghosts
OF happiness dit.
J, too, awaken at Midnight, and clasp my arm;
to cnfoli
A vagne and shsGowY Image, with tesSss o'
brown and gcli.
RXperienc- Is better, indeed Ihave learned, al
heavy cost.
The secret Of loves 'persistency. too have ant
loved lost