Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1876-11-11

priefs. flor We had them then, and at
the time they were very sore; but we
only remember the sunny days-there
were no gloomy days then-it was al
was Summer, alwas sunshlnel and as
the seasons come round, and We see
again the first eracus or snOwdrop, the
braes again with the primrose-spot-
ted trysting place, the meadow deeked
with the wee, modest, crimson-tipped
flower. when the hedges are again
white with hawthorn, and we hear
again the song of the lark as he mounts
TO the blue sky, : the hum of the row
ing bee. or thea rasp sof the corn cralk
as he runs through the corn when the
shadows of evening fall. or it may be
the air of simple song We learned
long ago, how they all carry us back
to our early homes, and then the most
unemotional among US feel stirred II
they would but confess it. But only
those who have visited their native
place after an absence of fifteen or
twenty years, can fully understand the
poetry that surrounds every familiar
spot, whether it be the links
3" Where we sported the sunny hours.
When life was q garland of Summer how-
ers,"
or in the old churchyard beside the
graves Of our kindred, or where we'll
remembered schoolmate lies. 1t IS
then we teel life 5 poetry rising and
bubbling up in our souls. Poetry
does not belong exclusively to poets,
as some may imagine it comes to Us as
to the poet-indeed, of the two we may
have the keenest enjoyment of it. Il
will be good for us to cultivate this
poetry Of life" !" even in the midst OF
the :" battle of life; = it will smooth
the rough corners aud soothe the hard
knocks we sometimes get ia the light.
And it has another important recon
mendation-it costs nothing. It's a
blessing as free as the air or the sun-
| light; and, if w cannot express 1t IN
words, let us do it in deeds of kind
ness, and in sympath.zing with our
| fellow creatures who may be sinking
under misfortune or affection. and to
whom the worlu may look dar ( and
cold We can take it to the sick bed
in the form of few freshly y-gatheret
flowers to refresh the eyes of the sut-
ferer. Who can tell the power Of this
simple, childIike act? And when they
are taken from US TO their " last DIRE m
! less sleep, we can express 1T by pi e.
| ing on the sod that covers them, rever
| entity and with loving hands, The how'
ers they loved best here. We car
read poetry, that words are too feeble
to express, il an old letter, getting
! yellow with age, it may be. Have We
not felt an almost holy presence around
us when looking at one of these ole
letters. and for the moment felt nearer
the brighter land as we look at the
words traced by the wellknown hanc
that can never write more, and reac
again the thoughts of the brain tina
is stilled forever here?
Let each of US enjoy this iife's poe
try in our own way. Let the arts
paint his pictures; the poet write hi
songs; let the orator thrill his audi
ence; the hero gain his laurels; anC
let us who are less gifted-who arr
neither painters, poets, orators, no
heroes-express it as we can; for If w
seek the happiness of others befor'
our own; if we cultivate love for tn
beauties of nature, be generous ant
faithful in our friendships, make ou
home happy by exercising all the hom
affection, and so make that home
however humble it may be, peaceful
one; then will We, with God 5 blessing
fully realize and enjoy the true poe
try of life.