West Virginia argus. [volume] (Kingwood, W. Va.) 1877-1946, 1877-11-10

Novclists have written of it's magic
influence, poets have sungof its enchant-
ing visions, philosophers have put aside
moro practical themes 10 dream of the
wondrous charm that hedges i'm the first
love of our hearts. Loves may come
and loves may 70, the seat of human
affection may become a very chaug'ling,
bright eyes may dazzle us i'm manhood's
maturity, fond and gentle hands
may cherish us rs the blossoms of old
age cluster, but memories of youths
bright summertime, of its gardens of
beauty and its sweet buds of un-
shadowed Joy, will cling around us like
the tendrils of perfumcd vine. Sea-
sons may come and seasons NAV pass
away, sorrows may encircle us. gricfs
may droop their cbon banners about our
pathways, friendships bonds may be
broken, the trusted may prove faithless,
but there are times when we do dream of
cleaning past, where the sunlight
threw no shadow, when uncloudcd faith
dwelt with us and hope was the enchan-
trcss of our lives. And down the long.
dim aisles of the faded wears we
catch glimpses of the fond-eyed sweet
heart of the olden time, soft checked
and fair, ms when we met her long ago.
in the wild rash days of our youth.
When heaven seemed 10 have come down
to us on earth, when the music of the birds
was sweeter and the hcw of the flowers
faircr, when this wide world seemed
filled with pleasantly and Joy, and n
mystic glory lived in the fragrant air
We may have grown worn and cold,
wrinkled and gray, but this dream-pic-
tuTe of unforgotten days, brings back
to our withered lives thrill of tender
ness that makes the old heart young.
Words that were spoken, vows that were
whispered away OF yondcr by the banks
and mcads and brooklets of Auld Lang
Syne, come floating down To- us like
incense from sacred altars Again the
wide alvannahs, the blushing gardens,
invite our eager feet. Triumphs, honors,
the richest benisons of life are beckm-
ing us on, and n pouting girl with wild
flowers in her hair, the rose-Aush on her
cheek, is the shrine at which we
would lay the treasures that our eyes
discern.
lis then that we are generous indeed.
When the fond impulses, born of the
new awakening within us, rush, uncon-
trolled about our hcartstrings, binding
the vision of our untried souls, and wear
ing pictures beautiful as painters
dream. IL has been said, that the music
of earth is but the family remembered
strains of songs we learned i'm Heaven.
May IL not be that we owe the purity,
the generosity of our early love 10 its
near descent from God? 1t bursts upon
us unheralded, unsought. 1t floods us
with grander, trucr sentiments, with
purer aspirations than ever come To us
again. Untainted by contact with bascr
things, the sweet spirit nestles i'm our
bosoms and twines about our blossoming
lives its gentle influence, all silent and
unseen; striving To lift our grovelling
natures into higher plane, or more
exalted sphere. IL breathes Of chivalry
and devotion, Of tenderness and trust, of
nobility of thought and earnestnes.s of
action. But worldly cares come hasten
ing on, and, sooner or later, the picture
is blurred, the vision gone The colors
become dim, the " trail Of the serpent"
obscures their luster, and, with the
changes Of time the golden glory of our
youth fades out till the memory alone
remains. Other loves may come To us,
other faces may be fairer than that of
the winning girl who won us long ago,
but the glamour that dwelt about our
lives Of yore will never come back again.
The broad, generous, unshaken trust,
the wild thrilling of the blood like old
wine within our veins, lives only in our
fancy.