The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1876-06-04
When Donau will DO willing to Die.


We would not die in spring time, when
young chickens and green peas ripe.
We would not die in summer, whom June
roses are In bloom; when string beans and
watermelons toss their giant arms and plumsi
heads upon the plain ana fair young damsel
Is a plain Pine puncheon) with tasteful punches
OF geranium, honeysuckle, cltnip, dog fennel,
and other sweet-scented noral vegetables.
We would not die in autumn. when the woods
are all ahsms with gorgeous tints from
heavens own royal dye works; when crimson
mods to scarlet, and orange and Bismarck wave
courtly salutation to Solferino, London smoke,
and pure pale opaline green; when gold comes
down In showers from every forest b ugh, and
the heavens are OF translucent ipis laZui; and
when yenlson steaks put In their nTst appear
ance, as sayory forerunners OF sausage and roast
goose.
We would not die 10 winter, when the long
ice-dlamOnds hang rainbo flashing pendant
jewels, In all Natures ears, aud the cleaning
skates need strapping on each ethereal dhring's
dainty pedals; when tho wild winds, buttoned
up In their Christmas oyercoa,s, come whistling
their merry roundelays under the caves, and
oyster stews exhale their fragrant incense from
CHEEKY festal boards. Nay. nay, verify.
nnt' on thai The GODS NAV send doSna bnssx
and horses Of lire, with celestial baggage wagon
and Ice box sccOmpaDmeuts, to bear us away
70 that blessed region where wicked cusses
cease from troubling and weary married unfor-
tunstes are at rest: and where spectacles and
cambria handkerchiefs are never known or
needed more. on, that we may be borne
thtiher. II needs be, on the pinons Of a buzzard,
before our heart grows too old 10 swell with
whirlinR planet tribe; before the beauties OF
this beautiful earth, in which so much OF Eden
still fingers, are lost upon our dimmsd ana fall
Ing eyes.
Tho grandeur Of Its cloud capped hazen-
shrOuded mountains; the enchantment OF It's
vcrdant, suulit wales its waving forests; and its
silyery lakes resting, like dazzling oreastpins,
upon the bosom OF the landscape; tho bright
ness Of Its skies; the awful majesty Of It's
storm-lashed oceans; the glare OF It's fOrked
beginnings; the celestial tlntings OF its rainbows
and Its flowers; and the almost, nay, ra her
moro than angelic lOveliness VI lts diamond
eyed, ruby Tipped and pearly checked daughters.
And before the sweet sounds Of earth fall
blunted and deadened uDon our age dullsd
ears, the warhing Of birds, the ripping VI brook
lot and rlll the tinkle Of miniature cascades, the
sighting OF the evening winds through the tall pine
trees, tho melancholy chanting Of tho waves
upon the coast, the grand roll Of the thunder a.
the artillery wagons OF the skies nre trundled to
the front the low, weird murmur Of the sad sen
shell, ever whispering The melody Of its billOwy
home; tho mighty roar ~ the cataract; the
merry laughter Of childhood, innocent, careless,
happy childhoOd-oh, so ueetng; the deep
tones of the organ, the iare OF the trumpet. the
witchina strains OF viol and lutte, the love
breathing no,es Of soft guitars in moonlit
orange groves.
Aye, may we be boxed up, a rose bush plant
cd above our pulseless breast, and some other
fellow making love to our widow ere these de-
lights have ceased to charm our retina and
tympLDuD.