National Republican., 1878-10-31
BILL REDDING.
A Poem I,y &C."

bfBb amman.
A Poem .By &C."
Over the city the pestilence hung;
The deAth.cart rumbled tho dead.bcll rung;
The sun at morn, lii the eastern sky,
Like the fateful glcam OF a demoneye;
Glarcd down at noon with an angry blaze,
On thousands that cursed Its sultry rays,
Aud at evening sank-a lurid ball
Drawing over the Garth the nights hot pail.
BY day aud by night the fever grew;
The dying many-the watchers few.
The old and the young, the high and the low,
Fell meath the touch ofthe merciless foc
The hero that fought and the craven that fed
We're numbered alike with tho bronzed dead.
The hand that brushed the death-dews away
Felt the fever.ire In It's pulses play:
lie that buried the dead let fall his spade,
And sunk Ia the grave himself had made;
The arm OF the worker grew siif and cold;
The mscrs fnce took the hue OF his gold.
The mart was cmpty-none bought or sold,
Save no who mingled the cooling dram
which tho stricken victim valnly quafred
And the undertaken who undlsmayed,
stlll piled. for pelf, his ghRsily trade.
Thousands led far from the nolsome plain,
Thousands who came not back again;
The dead and the dying and fated remain,
And want-Dcaths courtcr forc'er In his train
The vile south.wind blew murk and hot
Over the plague. bcsmItten spot;
sulphur.h demons trooped forth from hell
And laughed with glee as the victims fell
What woe was sylllbcd In anguish walls
That told to the murk night and pulsing neon, the
tale
There was no human car to hear for all the tide
or restless, busy life that swrls in ceaseess fow,
Along the western worlds great mart way turned
aside
sheerly and swim, in pallid dreado of their great
woe,
Echoing back the lepes's scItaccusing cry,
"Unclean! Unclean l-e'cr pointing back-"Come
ye not nigh!
Unsrccorcd Of men, unhouseled OF God,
They bowed In the dust meath the unsparing rod
uncharneed the dead, unattended the dying;
unfed were the poor unmindful the lyins.
And few the undauntcd who walked to the grave
with the thousands they vNinly cndeavored to save.
one slender thread stretched twixt them and the
world
One cobweb frail, along whose strands were
whlrlcd
The fiery chnriots which alone might bear
Afnr the plague bcleagucd ctys prayer.
But one there was whose skillful hand might train
The mystic spark to tell their woes again!
But he was true! No thought Of ease,
slumber or weakness, checked the throbblng keys I!
"Tlck, tick g." the message goes
| OF Grenada and It's WOES
| How the fever ebbs and flows
out along the throbbing wire.
Specded by hCaven'wrested fire.
Promcthcau sparks that swiftly bear
AEar tho smittcn city's prayer.
" Help! Help! No stIntcd dole!
The Charity that Sayc' n soul
Is wantcl now! such love rs lie
| Who whilOm taught in Galilce
sent down the ages In grahd refrain:
| Whose his nCighbOT lOvcth as himself
ScOrnIng to measure heavenly things with pelf-
And sccketh not his life, his life shall sain!"
Swin came the answer! From the IostlIng North,
And yet umscourgci South, alike went forth
The bounicous pure, the helping hand, the sym
pathctlcpr
And all the land was sad because the fever plague
was there!
REDDlSG-"BILL" REDDISG his familiar name
Bright Uc 1t written on the scroll OF fame
BILL REDDIEG sent the prayer and heard the glad
reply!
Daily and nightly, as the weeks went by.
Unmoved by danger. undi,turbcd by doubt.
lIetwixt the woes within and world without,
lie stood sole minister No thought Of fear,
30 prayer Of love. could make him veer
From that behest Of lleayn which placed him
there!
:, sister and wife, and children fair,
| And they, too siHd amid the tainted DIR,
Bccausc-becausc they loved him so
And well they might II heavenly gold
Fer shown among the warp and woof,
OF life besmlrchcd with earthly mold,
Its radiance lighted REpDING's SOUL
When death dcws shonc upon the dearest brows,
From couch to keys backward aud forth he stole
Putting his woe aside, that he might rouse
The slothful great hearts OF the world without
n upW pXertiOu fDr tho stricken rOuLl
Onc-twO-thrcc cOrpCs lie within the room,
Where still, his hand ticks of the tale of dOoml
But one is lcft She ncstlos in his arms
His luvvrcd eye, devour her budding charms
His brow Is brOnzcd his bOndGsed head droop
, low,
His breath comes quick his heavy hand move
SLOW!
The dizzy brain gives way, The Iron will
. Nerves him to one more effort Faithful stlll,
. He writes: more deaths Three corpses lie
Within this room. Beg pardon, Ton, but l."
Oh ptcOus plant 10 colnradc leagues away,
e By him who ne cr had fallcrcd ill that day
T "I-fcar," the listener read "I-cannot-wrIte-"
G Slowly and brokenlv. Then all was still.
There came no answer when he signNlld "BILLr'
. Above the fever stricken city,
= In the early morning mild,
!, Angels, full of tender pity,
Met the weary Ihan and child;
And they passed the gates Of glory
@ Whence great welcoming hosts dcaled-
f Pure white souls that go before US,
, Into realms Of endless day
Chanting ALL in welcoming chorus,
$ "Meiisou dc tOUtoR dOdpcg'.
= Not Charity" as we msname III
a Nor yet Love" some would claim IL
Thought OF self must never touch 1t
PASSIONS fame must never smutch itl
9 It's the pure aud perfect essence
II OF the Gallilean Presence
a Name? We have no name to give III
REpUISG SHOWED Us HOW TO LIVE ri
= -
a sFaith Hope Charity-these three
"Grtuiest OF Which Is Chdriv"