Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1881-08-05
Mrs. L. Yirginla French.
Tennessee Correspondence courier-Journal

Tennessee Correspondence courier-J Journal
a'rhe touch Of vanished hand,
And the sound Of voice that Is still.
To the Editor Of the Courier-Journal;
Knowing SO we'll how you have ever
| fOstered Southern literature and given
| to Southern pens and Southern genius
a place in your generous heart and 2
place in the columns of your paper, l
ask space in your columns for poem
written by the late Mrs. L. Virginia
French, of McMinnville, Tenn, the
most gifted, the most polished and
perfect of Southern poetesses and au.
thoresses. Recently this little frag-
ment-this tender flower that grew in
the garden of her gentle and true soul
came into my possession, and its
publication will serve as tribute to
her memory and remembrance to her
beloved from one who raised for her
self monument in the hearts of low
ing friends--a monument that will
outlast perishable granite or cleaning
marble, because she built with the
white stones of good deeds;" she
carved with the deft chisel of charity
and virtue; and, although there was
no sound Of hammers nor of any build
ing, suddenly it appeared before US,
finished, towering toward cloud pillars
and stars that shine as if with the
deathless patience and deathless be-
neyolence and approval of Gods eter-
nal love.
The little poem was written as word
consolation tor the children of one of
her own beloved friends who passed
from earth to heaven, but illustrates
her own.pure life so truly, and will be
so comfortable to empty arms that are
aching for a form that they may not
press and emptier hearts that are
breaking in their desolate loneliness.
| have no title to give it other than,
April Fad, the day upon which, lin
the dust of our hearts we laid her
away"
APRIL IND.
Bur ed t0-day-the true and loving mother
The heart that beat responsive to our own
We start-we paue;-we gaze at one another
Then, wondering, ask-"Can she indeed be
gone"
Vanished the gentle mile by which she won us
Ever TO dutys path; and must we cay
OF all the love and truth she lavished on US
We buried it today
Buried tO-day-the kind and generous neigh
Dor
New. lorgetiul of those oounsels sweet
That comfort stricken ones, and with her labor
al "a nat fae nth
Aiding through every dark and painful hour,
Soothing with soft and unobtrusive sway =
And must We say Of all this gentle power
We buried it to-day
Buried to day-the nobIe-hearted woman
Living by that high filth TO angels given
Blending in all her lite the truly human
With something less Of earth-more Of
heaven,
Faithful and steadfast in her CONSIDERATIONS
TO Duty-striylng meekly to obey
And can ne say Of this grand commsndation |
We buried 1t to-day?
Not so, net so. Though sorroWing and lonely |
We comnrehend her pare and per tect peace
We understand the life that served God only, !
Looking to Hin alone for its release
And when Deaths gentle summons to remem- |
Der
Yves as sWeetly answered-les none say,
Of such example, lofty, simple, tender
We buried it to-day?
Not so. not so. When such a lovely story
As that of her sweet life on earth appears
II crowns all Womanhood with gentle glory,
And when it fades there is no room fer tears, |
The good her life mas wrought will perish |
never,
And though the worker may be laid away
To her last rest the work remains forever,
Nor erumbles with the clay.