Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1876-01-08
CARRIERS ADDRESS
MARTlNSBURG DAILY AND WEEKLY INDEPENDENT

Great Apollo, tune my Tyre,
Breathe upon each trembling string,
MUSES., tip my pen with fire,
Bout which poets sometimes sing.
Scarce had ceased the invocation,
When the Parcae's shadows cross,
Wierd like Clotho, and Lachesis,
And the dark robed Atropas;
Clotho held the fleece and distaff,
And Lachesis twirlng spun,
While old Atropos with scissors,
Cut the thread that measured run.
Silent there / sat and watched them,
Spinning off events and years,
Days, and weeks, and months as measured,
Falling meath the fated shears:
Divers were the threads they fashioned
Some full Finished some not done,
Black and white wool, some commingled,
Some composed OF only one.
These are some the lines / noticed,
Spinning round the magic steel,
Skeins, and knots, and cuts OF life thread
Winding on the mystic reel.
AS Times cord is slowly coiling,
From the fated distaff's head,
I'll recount the checkered story
Written on each line and thread:
See the grand Old Year departed,
With his virtues and his sins,
Passing through old Clotho's fingers
AS the haggard beldame spins.
Twelve bright sons and blooming daught'rs,
Each one aged thirty days,
Pass like princess round monarch,
LoWly chanting ghostly lays.
First arising January,
Pale faced baby, heads the train,
With his snow-white frili of winter.
And his crown of frozen rain;
Follows closely February
With a necklace made of snow,
Second son with Boreal features,
And a breath Of icy flow.
Scarcely had the fathers tear-drops,
Melted off his fleecy shroud,
When that boisterous child of battle,
March, came riding on cloud,
Sometimes laughing, sometimes screaming,
Sometimes clustering, sometimes mild,
Is it mania or hysteriap
Tickle fretted Old Years child.
To his fun'ral comes his brother,
April bathed in rainy tears,
And erects his birthday shrine where
Fools can meet and say their prayers.
Next is born blooming daughter,
May, fairy dancing queen,
And she binds her fathers mantle,
With velvet fringe of green:
Passing June with robes of flowers,
Proud and naughty in her glee,
Pours the rich and golden sunlight
Over woodland hill and lea.
July seventh in succession,
Slowly joins the mystic train,
Followed by the fruitful August,
Bearing sheaves of golden grain,
While the hazel-eyed September
With his cloak of varied hue,
In the smoke of Indian Summer,
Paints the distant mountains blue.
Quickly fitting fades October,
And November rides the blast,
Close pursued by bleak December,
In his robe of Polar cast,
Comes to see his aged father,
Comes to join him at his death,
AS they must together perish,
Must together yield their breath;
So the storm king gently takes them,
Lays them on his icy bier,
And as death comes DER them stealing,
Wipes away the frosty tear;
Dead, he bears them to the north land,
Hews them out tomb of snow,
And there leaves them to their last sleep,
While the ceaseless ages flow.
But the cord is still expanding,
Taking in the world and Time,
Till it rolls phantom painting,
Which the muses. spin in rhyme,
First there comes shade of darkness
And the mufiled church bells ring,
Der the nations fallen cheftain,
Chief more loved than prince or king.
Watch it passing-Oh! how different,
Some things sacred, some prOfane,
Naught the fated cord concealing,
In the wierd and spectral train.
There's Boss Tweed who stole his millions,
Finally stole himself away,
Once the proud old Tam'ny leader,
And could be the same to-day.
All it's brighter-sounds of gladness
Echo through Columbia free,
For the years are just one hundred,
Since Nation we were free;
From the bloody fields of Yorktown
From the shades of Bunker Hill,
From the silence of Mt. Vernon,
Speaks the tongue of patriot STILL
Speaks, and bids again the people,
Form a Union as of yore
And make brothers lately foemen,
Brothers be as meier before.
May the Prince of Peace and Good Will,
Through the coming hundred years
Spread fraternal love and friendship,
And from faces wipe all tears.
All behold a smoke arising,
Filthy fumes and still house smell,
1t is Bristow like old Pluto,
Stirring up those types of hell.
Such black pools of rank corruption,
Stain officials high and great,
TIL cucniciop p1pn attaches