The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1882-10-04
mid THE DRIFTWO0D.
A LEGEND OF THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.
BY W. f. WILLIAMS.

On the Mississippi's margin, where the
cliffs rise bold and steep
Where the red BIRDS song is mingled
with the murmnr of the deep;
Is a rudely fashioned easket, nesting
on narrow ledge.
Jutting from a rugged headland high
above the waters edge.
There in solitude and stiffness lies a
sleeper cold and dead;
Where but sunlight and the m00nbeams
guard the lonely little bed,
Up among the messy boulders, where
no sexton ever goes
Where the sodden, wasting driftwOOd
is the grave-grass and the rose.
In the summer, trailing ivies, that have
found place to cling
UP above, in clefts and crannies, pend
ing downward sway and swing,
Curtain-like before the portals, with
the winds that come and 60,
Bringing lullabys from wavelets on the
river down below.
And it seems as if the sunbeams push
the emerald leaves aside
Every morning, when a boatman, drift
ing downward with the tide,
Casts his anchor in the river, shades
his eyes to see if still,
Winds and waves have left the slum-
b'rer and the coffin on the hill.
Locks Of silver fringe his forehead, but
his eyes reflect a glow
OF the youth that Old Time ripened in
the years of long ago;
While the voice that told this story of
the dead one up above,
Told a tale of second childhood, and an
Old mans clinging love:
"Fifty years." he sighed, "have floated
down the stream and out to sea,
Laden with their joys and sorrows,
since my new-made wife and me
Halted on the rivers margin, full Of
hope, and rich alone,
In the love that makes palace of cot
If it's your own.
EVERY summer found the clearing
stretching further from our door
Every winter better guarded 'gainst the
winds that swept the shore;
AND If ever folks were happy, me and
Becky were, | know,
For the things that came to vex us, left
us brighter when they'd go.
"Ah! but joys dazzling cloudlet, that
is sure to make us blind
TO the hooking shapes of sorrow ever
lurking close behind;
But its light has long since vanished,
and Pm cropping in the gloom,
For the hand outstretched to guide me
\ to the path beyond the tomb.
u "Twelve bright years--then came the
darkness; then the river broke its
chain;
Hungry waves swept DER the clearing,
gathering up the garnered grain;
creeping on they crossed the thres-
hold, snuffing out the firelight's
glow,
That so long had been beacon to the
straying friend or foe.
"Still the waters moaned and murmur-
ed, every current asking more;
Every fresh tide beating harder 'gainst
the little cottage door;
It'll the raging pillows conquered, and
with hoarsely muttered groan,
Swept the cot and we who loved il. on,
sO""'o WIZ fdSuC VIikuOWUs
"Still they writhed, and whirlef, and
twrled - broke the hand-clasp.
choked TIE sigh -
And the demons of the night-wind
brought me Becky's last goodbye;
And that wall from ont the darkness
told me love was but thread
That could never lift my darling from
AMONG the Silnnt dead
X
ION yon ledge the boatman found me
at the calming of the tide,
And they found baby nesting mid
the driftwood at nv side:
Felt feeble little heart throb-found
the shadow of breath;
"a" SUR of tiny fingers, brushing of
the clouds of death.
"Not sign from whence she drifted :
not word to tell what breast
HAD been. robbed and left forsaken by
Its little nesting guest;
But the more she seemed forsaken. nil
the same she seemed to be
Like one bringing Becky's spirit from
the waters back to me-
"For glad, familiar sunlight trembled
In the bright blue eyes,
Beaming like benediction from the
azure of the skies;
AND the voice that whispered papa.
seemed the echo of knell
Coming to me through the darkness
grieving DER last farewell.
$50 l called the wee one Becky-for nc
other name would seem
just the one to give acolor to my home.
ly little dream;
And, when she, had learned to lisp it,
something told me was right
Told me she had come to brighten IN
the darkness of my night.
"Step BY step the little toddler led me
49,, towards the quiet glade,
"here contentment buds and blossoms
u, IN a soft forgetful shade;
linen the ringing laugh of childhood
called the ghost that held me fast,
Flodted with it of to dreamland, and
my soul was calm at last.
"Cail it God, Fate, Man or Deyil--call
1t by what name you may,
But a something-dead to pity-turned
49, my idol into clay;
stole the breath that whispered COM
fort; chilled the hand whose touch
was love;
flushed the laughter that the angels
tuned their larps with, up above.
And within the little casket, on her
-, cheek left pledge
1hat ia put her where | found her
mid the driftwood on she ledge