The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1878-09-13


om,ious thought presents again
The thuUs nd little acts he wrought,
Wticb wound my heart with soothing pain.
Hislooks his widening gestures rise,
Ills warning hands and laughing eye7
Those waving hands no more shall move,
Those laughing eyes shall smile no more
And thou hast stolen a jewel Death"
sings Gerald Massey, when Babe
Christabel was taken.
Our beautiful bird of Light bath fled.
awhile she sat with folded wings
sang round q few hoverings-
Then straightway into glory sped.
Through ChildhoOd's mOrning-land, serene
She walked betwiNt twain, like love,
M lille in a robe of hight, above
Her better angel walked unseen,
TIL LIES highway broke bleak and Wild
Then lest her starry garments trail
The angels arms caught up the child
And Adelaide Proctor sings of her
" Vanished Little One"
We miss her footballs on the floor,
Amidst the nursery din;
Her tip taps at our bedroom door,
Her bright face peeping in"
Yet another poet has sung:
So she is dead
Dead in the freshness and nlrth OF childhood;
Dead like a beautiful flower in the wildwood
Where careless feet tread.
Her smile We shall miss
a. though some sweet morning the sunlight should
We shall yearn in theynight with passionate wall
For her lingering kiss"
But not all the poems connected with
happy childhood are so unhappy.
Hoods " Parental Ode to his Son is in
happy contrast with these mournful
verses.
John Wilson is touched with the
sight of his sleeping boy, and doubts if
such
g Light and airy breath
steal from a being doomed TO death2
or art thou what thy form would seem,
The phantom OF blessed dream"
So Bret Harte was touched, when,
missing
"a joyful treble that had grown
A. dear to us as that grave tone
That tells the world by older care,'
he sought out his sleeping boy where
Surprised by sleep, caught in the act,
The rosy vaudal who had sacked
His little town and thought it play
What though torn leaves and tattered book
Stin testified his deep disgrace!
stooP and kiss the inky face,
With its demure and calm outlook,
Then back stole, and half beguiled
Ny guilt in trust that when my sleep
she'd s Sio n, there might 6e one who'd keep
OF all the present poets, perhaps Bret
Harte is in truest sympathy with child
hood, and with its lessons to manhood.
The last stanza of his g Greyport Lee
gend is especially beautiful:
at is but a foolish shipman's tale
theme for the poets idle page
But STILL when the mists OF doubt prevail,
And we lie becalmed by the shores Of age,
We hear from the misty troubled shore,
The voices OF children gone before,
Drawing the soul to its anchorage"
Whittier, it is well known, has that
apparent love for children which is so
beautiful in old men, and which child
rem, who
AWell distinguish fawning art
From sterling fondness of the heart"
so quickly appreciate and return; but
there is little evidence of 1T in his
poems. "In School Days and " The
Barefoot are, however, so charming
that we can not but regret that such
specimens are 50 rare in his pages.
Stoddard has shown high appreciation
of the attractions of children occasion
ally. He likens child to a poets book;
"a child is like poets book,
4 rare conception, richly planned,
Harmonious, perfect in its parts,
Going raght TO all mems hearts,
And yet so hard 10 understand"
But I.ongfeliow's poems are richest
in the kind of gems | am stringlng Tor
YOU now. Pick up book of his poems
and open it at random and you Wilt fnd
some rare conceit, some beautiful fancy,
inspired by children. "The Reaper and
the Flowers" is one of these which has
been called ga gift TO the English Ian
guage." The Child Asleep" and the
mothers sweet error" is another. 9 To
a Child" and g Children we find
them ON every page.
siCome 10 me, o We children,
For 1 hear you at your play,
And tbeu
Have vanished quite away
In your hearts are the birds and sunshine,
In your thought the brooklet's few.
The Children's Hour" e. Between the
dark and the daylight" WEAKNESS.
d Tic Boy and Brook all bear testi- |