The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1880-07-23
BY-GONE PICTURES.
By MRS. MAMIE STEELE MOORE.

BY-GONE PICTURES.
By MRS. MAMIE STEELE MOORE.
have a secret hall of art,
Hung with pictures set in gold,
And ON the leaves Of memrys DOCK
Each familiar names enrolled;
But il il strange? does not the same
Live in every woman's heart?
And do not men, too, often hang
By-gone pictures an their hearts?
Ills but farce, foolish whim,
To say those faces are forgot;
The faithful dog can ne'er forget
A well-known voice, or home-like cot;
Then tell me not that human minds,
Endowed with wisdom from on high,
Forget the smile, the form, or face,
Or the love-glance of youths bright eye.
Tell me not that one true woman
Ever threw obyion's shade
Der the conquests that her virtue
In her youth and beauty made;
And though his name may be obscure,
Or on fame's tablet brightly shine,
Ills stamped the same on mem'ry's page,
He once bowed before her shrine.
He offered her the noblest gift
Life and honor could bestow,
The greatest prize that man could bring
From any station, high or low;
Waited 10 hear her say u viii
And, though she dared not breathe the words,
That man lives in her mem'ry still.
I'D spurn to-day the cold, base man
That would before me boldly stand
And swear that he'd forgotten one
When he had fondly clasped her hand
With that fervent sincere pleasure
Which but an ardent lover feels
When round his heart the cord OF love,
With magic power, softly steals.
And often i'm my lonely hours
roam this hidden hall of art,
And gaze upon each beaming face
That wakes old mem'Ties in my heart,
And youths gay scenes come crowding back,
But with them bring no singing blight;
Fate he'd the ieweled prize drew
Thank God, I'm blessed with him tonight
But there hangs one with curly hair,
so inky black II shades the brow
The boy-beau of my girlhood days,
The man of far-famod title now.
He tossed me in the grapevine swing,
Made me bowers, called me his queen,
And carried my shoes upon his arm
When would wade the ripping stream.
Here hangs another with such eyes
Great shining, lustrous orbs of brown
That only gleam from souls like his
Born for distinction and renown.
He brought me from his life's great work
The sweet illusions of his heart,
And, in each sweet, imprisoned song,
He strove loves language to impart.
And here's noble, manly face,
With soft eyes of heavenly blue
Eyes that bespeak an inward soul,
High-born. generous, just and true.
And with that fervOr of the soul
Which but from truth and candor shine
He brought loves pledges from his heart,
Aud laid them down before my shrine.
And there il one--I wish the veil
Could ne'er be raised from OFF that face,
Or that | could tear the picture
Forever from its hiding-place.
Not that care but then know
Sad memories will around it cling;
Not that one love-pang of the past
Can eYermOre my bosom sting;
But, then, twas sad to see a soul
So pure and true as his had been
Firmly grasp wines flowing bowl
And plunge in darkest deepest sin.
I've prayed for him in years agone.
And sometimes yet, perhaps, | do;
FOR, !ct his faults be what they may,
TO me he was faithful, noble, true.
But there's face-that jolly face
1t makes me laugh 10 see it now;
SO innocent-so full of mirth--
No shadow rested on his brow.
Those sparkling eyes, that laughing beamed
With widest, highest, brightest joy;
Oh, no, never shall forget
That happy, gay, braye-hearted boy.
Boy, did / say? Full thirty years
Had dawucd and closed DER him. ween,
But yet his heart was free and light
As any boys of just sixteen.
Old time had left no furrowed trace
Upon his noble, manly brow.
God bless him, and truly hope
He may be just as happy now.
l wore his flowers, sang his songs
The while he fingered at my side.
But when he sought my heart and hand
Told him | was a promised bride.
No dark frown gathered or his brow;
He nobly casped the hand of fate,
With that same smiie-part of his soul
Said, "Just my luck; | am 10 late"
God bless them all--for with each face
Live bright mementos of the past
/ may forget them, but twill be
When memiry from my brain II cast.
Each one brought loves early flowers,
Around my pathway 10 cntwine,
Each one paid mans greatest homage
While humbly bowling at my shrine.
Pcrchance fault-fnders may condemn
The pictures have drawn from youth,
But they al do the same sometimes,
If they would frankly tell the truth;
And If they can forget the forms
That worshiped them in youths gay hours,
| fear their souls will never wake
Meath high heavens warning powers.
CORINTH, Miss.