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

The thought from all .he world concealed, !
That still do grieve thee lost.
POETRY AT HOME.
The term domestic poetry may possi-
bly, raise smile, for the very unpoeti-
cal aspect OF domestic life will lmme-
dlately suggest itself. There are GER
tainly many incidents occurring in do
mestic affairs that it would be difficult
to see where the poetry comes In.
Their, are many homes where the most
matter-of fact prose alone reigns, and
this is not to be wondered at when we
consider the vice aud misery that pre-
vail in some homes. the selishness
that exists In others-that total want
of consideration for each other which
is the destruction of happy home
Where this exists there can be no
poetry. 1t may be found in the midst
of poverty or sickness, but never can
gain ioothold in an atmosphere OF
selfshness; but where there is mu
tuaI sympathy, and where each seeks
to promote the other happiness, then
will The poetry of life step in aud light
eB the load We may have to carry.
This is one of our greatest blessings
that this sweeiener of our lie will
1--we even in the midst ai worldly cares,
il we only cultivate it. Robert Burns
says:
aTo make happy freside cline
To weans and wife
That's the rue pathos and sublime
OF human life"
Some practical mind may possibly ask,
what about squalilng children, with
| torn pinafores and dirty faces, never
/ out of mischief and dirt? What about
/ the miraculous consumption of bread
1 and butter, etc? Well, there doesn't
seem to be much poetry about these
things at the first glance, | admit.
But you would be surprised at what
can be extracted even there. Who has
not in going along a country road, seen
a group of healthy, stout-llmbed, curly
! headed, mud-bespattered, and torn
pinafored children. tumbling about, or
| gathering daises and butter cups by
the wayside, and filling these same
torn :. peenies with them? How
often do we find our greatest Artists
(who are the keenest observers of the
poetry of lite1 painting scenes like this,
where the dirt and the torn peenie
/ with the daises peepiDg through the
holes IN il make the very poetry of the
picture. The practical spirit, who is
against my elbow. whispers. All this
may all look verF. sci &c canvas, but,
what about the washing OF the peen
ies?" and chuckles as he thinks he
has once more squashed the poetry.
Ask the mother who washes them, and
who sits up at night when all the curly
heads are quiet at last, to patch the
holes, if she doesen't find poetry in
fseeing them lying rosy and healthy,
and She will tell you, as she kisses
| them, that she would thousand times
rather have the care, for time
may come when, In Gods provi-
dence, these little ones may be laid on
beds Of sickness, and when she Is over
whelmed with the dread that they may
be taken from her, and she looks back
upon any little worries they may have
caused, how paltry they seem, and oh.
how earnestly she desires to have it Ill
back again, instead of looking at the
pale face of the little sufferer; and
when He sees il wise and well to take
| TO himself and nothing Is left but a
| memory, what 4 halo of poetry is at
| tached to even a torn pinafOre little
half-worn shoe or a broken toy
Nowhere on earth is the true poetry O
life to be found so we'll as in the we'll
| ordered home circle. Home seems tC
me the very foundation of all poetry
it is a haven from all the worries OF
daily life. where we can laugh Wher
we're merry or sigh when we're sad;
and if that home possesses the on'
whose price is above rubies, whC
. opeueth her mouth with wisdom, ant
whose tongue is the Law of kindness,
then, indeed, it will be home for th'
poetry of life.
/ should be sorry to be understoot
to mean that this poetry of life i
chiefly to be found on sick beds anc
in bereayements that would make l
rather gloomy thing. 1t has anothe
side: it is an Instrument OF the tuiies
compass, and plays many tunes, iron
THE Land O. the Leal +" down t
Tullochgorum." In our social gath
erings and merry-keeplpgs, when "
are surrounded with happy faces
where the "eyes speak love to eye
that speak again, and all goes merr
as marriage BELL" is a glorious at
mosphere for the poetry of life; anc
> speaking of Tullochgorum, hea
how its revered author denOunces tn
= wretch who cannot join these happ
gatherings;
MAY dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow-dool and sorroWj
May dooi and sorrow be his chance,
| And name say, Wae's me, for MIN;
5faV dooI and sorrow be his chance,
y And a the ills that come frne France,
4 Wba Wilma rise We me, and dance
The reel O. Tullochgoruln.
I fancy this poetry of life is oftent
found in the humble cottage than
the mansion of the great. ] have see
il in the arranging of few ireshl!
gathered flowers, or in a single orns
= | mept or picture on the walls of vel
humble home; and where the rays {
a Summer sun light up the lnterIo
and fall, it may be, on the big b
Bible" lying open on the little tabl
the ewes thar are scanning its sacrt
e. naces now dimmed with age, and Il
once erect head now bending-this
a beautiful picture of life's poetry.
needs not the lofty rooms of the ma
sions; it will thrive quite as well-pe
hans better-in the humble cottag
as in the atmosphere of luxury.
- 1t is curious to know where we I'll
il sometimes. | fancy | have seen
touch of poetry in the trimming of
lady's bonnet. It can be seen whe
good taste is displayed, in the setti
of few rosebuds-not in any elab
rate design, but in single spray IN
riqht place But this is MOTTO be wo
dered at, when we remember that {
ladies and all their belongings ha
~ been theme for the poets of all ag
s. Our local poet, Peter Gardner, in Q
of his love songs, says:
There's witchery hid In ilk fauld o.
I rede We beware o. the flower o. oor too
So if We find witchery in the Y,
" faulds O. her goon," Why should
there be poetry in her bonnet?
What deal OF poetry is associa
with our early homes where we sp
~ onr childhood, the braes where
AI Gathered the Spring prinroses,
al oLo,l ,ra rent to {if we can lust ia