The Osceola times., 1882-09-02
MID THE DRIfTW00D.
A Legend Of the Mississippi River.
W. y. WILLIAMS.

Where the reu Dirus song is mingled win The
murmur Of the deep:
Is a rudely fashioned ciske,, nesting on mar
row ledge,
Jutting from rugged hcGdlsrd high above the
waters edge.
There in solitude and stiffness lies sleeper cold
and dead
where sqt itnoia sunlight and the moonbeams guard
Up among the mossy beu.ders where no sexton
ever goes
Where the sodden, wasting driflwood Is the
grave grass aud the rose.
In the hummer, trailing iyies, that have found q
place TO ding
Up above, in clefts and crannies pending down
ward sway and swing,
Curain-like before the portals, with the winds
that come and CO.
Bringing lnliabys from wayelets on the river
down below.
And seems as if the sunbeams push the emer-
aid leaves aside
Every morning when Il boatman, drilling down
ward with the tide,
Casts his anchor In the river, shades his eyes TO
see If stlll,
Winds and waves have lefl the slumb'rer and the
coffin on the hill.
Locks of silver fringe ais forehead, but his eyes
reflect a glow
Ofthe youth that Old Time ripened in the year.
of long ago:
While the voice that Id this story Of the dead
one up above,
Told tale of second childhood, and an old
mans clinging love
"Finy years" he sighed "have fioated down the
stream and out 10 sea,
Laden with their JOYS aud sorrows, since my new
made wife and me
Halted on the rivers margin, fun of hope, and
rich alone,
In the love thai makes palace of cot-if it's
your own.
Every summer found the clearing stretching
further from our door
Every winter better guarded gatnst the winds
that swept the shore;
And if ever folks were happy, me and Becky
were, know,
For the things that came to veI u.s. left Us fright
er when they d 90.
"Ah but joys dazzling cloudlet, that /. sure To
make us blind
To the mocklng shapes of sorrow ever lurking
close behind;
But It's light has long since vanished, and I'm
gropiug in the gloom
For the hand outStre;ched TO guide me 10 the
path beyond the tomb.
Twelve bright years-ihen came the darkness
then the river broke its chain;
Hungry waves swept o'cr the clearing, gathering
up the garnered grain;
Creeping on they crossed the Threshold, snuifing
out the frelights glow,
That SO long had been beacon to the straying
friend or foe.
current asking more:
Every fresh tide beating harder 'gainst the little
cottage door;
Till the raging bilows conquered and with
hoarsely muttered groan,
Swept the cot and we who loved it, on, towards
the vague unknown.
"still they writhed, and whirled. and twisted
broke the hand clasp, choted the sigh
And the demons of the nieht-Yind brought me
Becky's last good bye;
And that wall from out the darkness told me
love was but thread
That could never liz my darling from among
the silent dead.
"on yon ledge the boatmen found me at the
And they fouod baby nesting md the drift
wood atmy side
Felta feeble Ii lie heart throb-iound the shadow
Saw stir Of tiny fingers, brushing of the clouds
of death.
to tell what breast
Had been robbed and left forsaken by It's little
nesting guest;
But the more she seemed forsaken, all the more
she seemed to be
Like one bringing Beckys spirit from the waters
back 10 me
"yor a glad, familiar sunlight trembled in the
bright blue eyes,
Beaming like benediction from the azure OF
And the voice that whispered Papa, seemed the
echo Of knell
Coming to me through the darkness, grieving
Ger a ast farewell.
$50 | called tn, wee one Becky-for no other
name would seem
Just the one to give color to my homely little
dream;
And, when she had learned to lisp IT, something
told me was right
Told me she had come to brighten up the dark
ness Of my night
"step by step the little toddcr led me towa rds
the quiet glade,
Where conentment buds and blossoms in a soft
flrge,ful shade
Then the ringing laugh of childhood called the
ghost that held me fast,
Floated with 1t off to dreamland, and my soul
was calm at last.
"Call it God, Fate, Man, or Devil-call 1t by
what name you may,
But something-dead TO pity-turned my idol
into clay,
Stole the breath that whispered comfort; chilled
the hand whose toucn was love;
flushed the laughter that the angels tuned their
harps with, up above
And within the little casket, on her cheek, l
left pledge
That ia put her where found .her-'mid the
drilwood on the ledge
FOR you know, the winds and waters only lent
her, and some day,
Coming back they'll find her waiting and they II
take their child away
$50 cit and watch the portals of the ivy ycur-
tanCd tomb,
Waiting for the golden twilight that is creeping
through the gloom
Waiting for the rush Of waters that will bear me
down the stream,
To the Becky of my cottage and the baby of my
dream"
That's tho Of ,rv Of tho sleaDer on the narrow