Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1877-04-12
(From the Illustrated Weekly.)
THE NOONsLIT TEXT.
pY E. \. 3.

p g.. --
Only tho moonlit pale and still -:
Looks in on tho desolate place;
Only the moon.;ght's cold white hand
Is touching the dead white face;
And the moonlight throws quaint silver bars
Across tho broken noor,
And is pccring in ut the attic rocf;
And creeping in at the door.
There's only broken table and chair.
And a lamp which has tlickcrcd out;
While the cobwebs swing from the blacEened
roof,
And the shadows fit about.
But the cobwobs hang in the mystic light,
Fairy castles Of silycry thread,
And the shadows slip AWAY from sight
At the moohbeam's silent tread.
Something they give of its girlish grace
To the frail, worn form on the bed,
And touch With wondrous beauty the face
The hasgard face Of the dead:
It's . beauty akin to that it wore
In the years that seemed so long,
When tho Future held all things in store,
And life was beautiful song.
Dead and nlonc-with no human eye
To drop plying tear;
Dead land alone with no kindly hand
TO smooth the tangled hair.
A CLINT OF gold it is holding still,
For all the years Of woe;
And it catches the CLEAN. Of tho moonlight
chill,
As it falls to the floor below.
What is it the moons white fingers touch,
AS they grope DER the dingy hoor2
A Book-and open, just as IT dropped
From the hi nd that can close no more.
Only one sentence is shining forth,
But it CLEANS in letters Of light
"Though thy sins shall! be like scarlet.
AS wool will make them white"
There's wondrous peace on the still dead
face,
peace that is strange to SEQ
Where sin and shame have left there trace
In lines Of infamy;
For the peace which passeth the wisdom Of
To the face of the dead is given
When the soul set free from care and paip
Hath found its way to Heaven.
Dying alone in that desolete room,
When the city was full Of life;
Dying alone in the awful gloom,
Away from the din and the strife;
Did the words that she read by tho fading
Bring up to her dying eyes
A vision Of farm house low and quaint
Meath purple twilight skies?
Did she hear, as she heard in the long ogo
l. Her fathers voice in prayer,
As he knclt where the golden sunset glow
Lit up his silver hair?
Did tho words sound in her ear dgain,
That she read by the yellow light
| "Though thy sins shall be like scarlet,
As wool will make them white?"
Did the honeysucklc's sweet perfume
Come floating to her again,
! As when, in the misty fading dusk,
She had paused in the scented lane
| For one last look at the home she loved,
The home Of teace and truth,
Ere she fed with one she had learned to trust
With the innocence Of youth?
Did hooking memories sweep and surge,
And torture her weary brain
OF her pure happy gir'hood days,
That could never come again!
For the gray haired parent sleeps at last
Beside a church Of stone
And here, in the great, crowded town,
She was dying-ail alone.
Alone when the Gcd she used to love
Remembers her even now?
Alone when the angels throng around
With wings like drifted snow
A cry goes up to the Fathers throne
! Tn at sinner is saved ut last:
| The eleventh hour soul hath won,
| Ard the gates Of Death are passed.
Austin, Mtnn., March goth, 1877.