The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1880-05-06
EVENTIDE.
BY WILLIS Fl. sCoFTELD


Now wanes the golden light of day,
AS slowly sinks the sun to rest,
And leaves behind golden ray,
The soul to cheer, the sight to bless;
Soon will the velvet pail be spread
BY dark-winged goddess OF the night,
And sleep-twin brother OF the dead
Weigh down the eyelids by his might.
From bramble near and quickest hedge =
lis heard the whip poor-will's lone cry,
While in the ancient oak oerhead
The hooting owls their high notes try;
The flowers fold their tiny hands,
AS if to breathe a prayer to Him
Who gave them all their, brightest hues,
His earth to deck, His fields to gem.
The weary granger slowly plods
His homeward, path from daily toll
OF hubbling DER the n-baked clods
TO gain his bread from off the soil;
His good dame. maid of all works
Cook. governess and milkmaid, all
Stands calling at the pasture bars
The COWS. that answer with baWl.
The busy mart is all aglow
With lamps that supersede the day,
And laborers from their shopWork go,
AS distant sounds the noisy dray;
The tradesman, low DER day-book bent,
Recounts again his daily sale,
And reckons loss, and gain, and rent,
That he, like others. may not fail.
What mean those sweet strains OF music
THAT gently float upon the air
Through the window of your mansion,
Where's thronged the young, the gay and fair
Oh, within there's ball tonight,
In honor of the eldest son,
Whom mammas court, both left and right
Io-day's the last of twenty-one.
The night is spent in gayety,
While flying feet to music sweet
Keep time with regularity,
Until the -" first days" timid peep.
Oh. proud, proud ones of humankind,
That grace your lovely mother earth,
Reck We not that you He'll find,
Fen mid gay jollity and mirth?
A sound Of reveiry is heard
Within the palaces of sin,
Where's spent the price of daily bread
For poison whisky, rum and gin;
While down yon dark and lonely street
An old and squaid cottage stands,
Where sits with heart too sore to weep
pale-faced woman with clenched hands.
No light Within and scant the fire,
That smoldering lies upon the hearth,
While starving children round her are
That once were full of joy and mirth.
1t is the home of him who once
Gave early promises of good,
But love of wine has been the curse
That robs his children of their food.
But 'ere Luna her night-robe dons,
OF lowing zephyr, feecy white,
And little stars, with night-caps on,
Come forth to dance the liyelong night,
Old Sol sends light, his daughter fair
RWho welded heat from Hades OUT.
Entrusted with missiye rare
Of what the day has brought about.
Maid Dawn, in early fragrant morn,
Rolled up the curtain Of the night,
Whilst Aurora, from her mountain home,
Welcomed all with smiles of light;
And drumming on an ancient log,
With never-ce asing roundelay,
While heldWard farmers are agOg,
The pheasant heralds in the day.
The flowers first the sunshine claim
TO mark their modest golden hue,
And then the waving verdant grain
That's wet with mornings gentle dew;
A nations born, nation dies,
Tween sun and sun of every day;
One filed with mirth, another cries;
Commingled are the sad and gay.
SOD made his boast Of colors gay
That's seen in heavens golden hoop,
OF travellers famished by the way
Where he'd dried all the water up;
And then list of other things
But here rude Boreas grasped the sheet,
And bore it meath his stormy wings
Unto his home upon the sea.
AKwgwx, Kan.