Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1879-04-13

MO2ITURI SALUTAMUS.
rhe wIld-eyed March has come again,
With frightened zee and flying teet,
And hands lust IoOsed from winters chain,
Qutstretched the reluctant sprlrg to greet
From her bleak hills, across the lea
She sweeps with tTesses backward blown,
And far our on the homeless sea
The nladdened pillows hear her moan.
The leaves are whirled in eddying drifts,
Or hunted down the barren void,
Where timidly the crocus lifts
Her shaken cup OF green and gold.
Above the dark pools ruffied breast
The swallow SKINS on glancing wing,
And from yon brown elm's towering crest,
L hear the amorouS mock-bird singi
1t leans above the gabled roof
That crowns the long hills fallow side,
summer shelter, showeT-proof,
When June shall haunt her leafy pride;
But naked yet, In wintry guise,
Its trailing moses sweep the ground,
The bare trunk lifted to the skies,
mark for many league around.
His sire had planted 1t, when first
He made this woodland wild his own,
Beneath its boughs his youth was nuIsed,
And with Its growth himself had grown
To manhood, and to ripper years,
One on whom God had set his sign,
The well-belosed Of all his peers,
But by the poor deemed half divine.
The good old doctorl mild as wise.
With pleasant Jest for all he met,
The kindly humur in his eyes
Flashed through the lips so grayely sweet.
Firm hand, big heart, and ample brain
Toughened By battles fought and won,
Scared with the wind and winter rain,
And eronzed By many summer sun,
Not largely learned In useless lore,
Nor duly studious oyermuch,
Saved by the sturdy wit he bore
From making others wit his cruteh.
But many a childing mother owned
His ready skill, and many vile,
Whose hope or stay in anguish groaned,
Owed to his care some precious life.
All periIous soundings, on his chart
Were pricked by faithful memory;
He knew the limits of his art
As seamsn know the unfathomed sea-
And every season, when to SOW
Each several seed in order cue,
And OF the wildiDg weeds that grow;
Tine hidden use of each he kne3.
All earnest faith he held as good,
The path of honor plain and broad;
His simple creed, best understood,
Was duty-unto man and God.
The Wayfarer fallen by the road,
Naked and bruised, and In disgrace,
Painting beneath lies bitter load;
Into bis wounds the oil he poured,
Gave food and wine for benson.
Nor, though his pouch was lily stored,
Forgot the pence to help him on.
When civic strife ran fierce and high,
His was the stOrm-assuag1ng speech
That bade the wOrdy tumult die,
And linked the nelghbors each to each.
So. walking in this narrow round
OF homelieSt cares and use, at best,
His DAYS, with simple pleasures crowned,
Had moved him TO his honored rest;
When suddenly a darkness fell,
Black as the pals of thickest night,
As though some lend from neither hell
Had come between US and GODS light.
From both its broodlng pinIons oozed
The CHASTITY dews OF pestilence,
A stealthy horror that confused
The brain, and palSled every sense
Where'er the lowering tempest broke;
Terror and doom were on the wind:
The crowded cities felt the stroke,
ana want and famine stalked behind.
As rose the long, wild wall of woe.
By lake and river, plain ana MIL,
The Yellow Death swept on, and 10!
A land of corpSes-stark aud chill.
Then. at the summons, stepping down,
But never one selfish thought delayed,
Where, racked with pain, the stricken town
stretched forth Its feyered hand Tor AID,
OR where, with anguish looking up,
The covering hamlet kneeling there,
Drank to the dre3s the bitter cup
That might not pass for any prayer,
He moved, like some supernal guest
With healings on his wings, and balm
To bring the tortured body rest,
And to the spirit whisper calm.
Where Misery croueled In darkest den,
With foulest sQualor grim and gaunt,
He only saw his fellow-meD,
And knew the largest claim IS want.
Felt the fierce poison In his vein,
saw DER his head the impending sword,
And fronting fate, in high disdain,
Fall al his INST uathnIlr a word
When winter SHOWS had purged the land,
And bleak Deeember's winds were shrill,
They bore him back with reverent HANDS,
To his old home upon the hill.
The spring will dress his narrow bed
With all the wild flowers that be loved,
And round his rest fragrance shed.
Pure as that virtue he approved;
Aud fainting in the dusIIy tree
That rocks above his dreamleSS sleep,
With drOwsy hum of murmurcuS bee,
solemn hush will summer keep;
And autumn feed with thousand Tflls
The drouth OF willow -margined streams,
And touch the sadness of the hills
With crimson and with golden CLEANS,
e But, evernore, all hours that bring
Or summer light, or winter gloom,
VIII pass by on unheeded wing,
Nor pause TO note his namelesS tomb.
What needs his name? or any name
OF those brave hearts that with him died
They battled no. for fee or fame,
Our loyal brothers! true and tried.
Enough, If standing by his grave,
In some far twilights fading day,
One tender soul he died 10 save,
Remembering all he was, shall say:
Here sleeps beneath his native soil,
Who, since his manhoOd's work began,
Gave all his days of useful toll
Aud, at the last, his life for man."