Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1882-09-08
AFTER TIE SALE.

Taking u lust survey;
Looks in once more Mt the great barn door,
On the empty NOW and the vacant iloor;
All the gains of his life have gone before,
And why should he care to stay1
Only stool with broken leg
Is left, and bucket without bail.
The harness is gone from hook ana peg,
Even the whip from Its nail:
Drcary shadows hang from the wall,
No friendly whinny from shed or stall,
Nor unmi kcd hcifcrs welcoming cail;,
The poultry and pigs have vanished, all
Swept out by the Sheriff s sale.
Back to the door-yard well he goes
For parting look a farewell drink.
How driDpingly that bucket rose
And poised for him on the brink
In the summers gone, and plnshed his fcct
When the men came In from the harvest hcatl
How blesscdly cool the draupht, how sweet,
Tis misery now to think.
What scenes of peacefu prosperous life
Once filed the yard so d solate nowl
When he often would say to his pleased, proud
wife,
That the farm appeared. somehow,
More thrifty and checry than other mems,
With its cattle IN pasture and SWINE in pens,
Blcating of lambs and cackle of hens,
And well-stored crib and NOW.
The enrly years of their proud success.
The years of failure and mutual blame,
Are past, with the toll that was happiness,
And the strife that was sorrow and shame.
Now who is the sud wrath sitting there,
With her burden of grief and her old thin hair
Bowed over her feeble frame?
"Do you remembcr2 This WELL" he said,
WAS sunk that summer when Jane was
born.
She used to stand in the old house-shed
And blow the dinner-horn
In after ycars-or climb a rail
Of the door-yard fence for cheery hail.
Then run to the curb for Il brimming pail,
When came up from the corn
Why think of her now? against whose name
His lips and heart long since were sealed;
Whose memory in their lives became
A sorrow that never has healed.
Her step is on the breaking stair,
Her girlish image is everywhere!
He hears her laughter, he sees her hair
Blow back in the wind, us she comes to bear
His luncheon to the field.
"Twas terrible wrongr The old wife
spoke,
Swaying her gaunt frame to and fro.
Into wall of woe.
at haunts me awake, it haunts me asleep!
And silence has been so hard to keep
SO long.-But there is grief too deep
For ever man to know!"
A quaver of anguish shook his tone,
His look was pierced with keen remorse;
The blame, suppose, was all my own;
And have no hcarL, OF course!
Lifting his gloomy hat ASIDE,
He looked up, hagg ird and hollow-eyed,
Like one whose burn ny soul had dried
His tears at their very source.
mo, mol don't mean that" she wept,
- I've felt you suffering many day,
And often at night when you thought slept
And when have heard you pray,
Until it seemed that my heart would burst.
And as for the blame, you know, ut first
claimed you were right and did my worst
10 force her to obey.
"For the dream of our lives had been to make
n fnru a nrI.
Our schemes were all for our childrens sake
And 1t seemed n cruel reward
To see her with careless scorn refuse
For all the arguments we could use
The man yOu most approved, and choose
The one you most abhorred.
But when she had chosen and all was done,
You needn't have been so hard aud stern
We might have forgiven the poor dear one,
And welcomed her return.
You never could know what she was to me,
You never will know how yearn to see
My child agnin-h0w homescsly
lyearn and yearn, and yearn!
"She chose for herself, and who can tell2
She braved your Will, it's true, and yet
She may, for all that have chosen we'll.
And how can We forget?
We chose for Alice, and unawares .
Rushed with her into II rich mans snares,
who tangled us up in his loose affairs,
And dragged us down with debt"
swell, welll"-with heavy sigh-"Lets go
Some things might not be done just so,
III they were tn do aga,n
But Alice is dead and tha farm is gone;
Our hopes, and all that we built them on,
Friends, wealth, are scattered hither and yon
And only ourselves remain.
"These boughs will blossom and fruits will
The same! When changed the orchard
lot
And fenced it all with good stone wall,
And planned the garden plot,
And built the arbor and planted trees,
And made a home for our pride and case,
We little thought these were all to please
Strangers who knew US not!
"Others will reap where we have sown;
But Others never can understand
What watchful care these fields have known
Or how loved the land.
Here maids will marry and babes be born,
Ihc sun will shine on the wheat and corn,
Crops be gathered and sheep be shorn,
But by n strangers hand.
Come, wife," With bittercst vain regret,
Remembering all good things that were,
The old man yet can half forget
His woes, In pity of her.
She entered. q young mans happy bride,
She crowned his home with hope and pride,
And now goes forth by m old mans side,
A weary wanderor.
With slow, disconsolate, broken talk,
They Look their last and pass the gate;
The wagon Is gone and they must walk
mile, and it's growing late.
She bears parcel, he lifts pack,
But what do they see there, up the track,
Against the sunset, looming black?
'Tis strange! tn wagon is coming back,
With its melancholy freight.
And what is the driver shrieSing out2
Now Heaven, for moment, keep then
sane!
"Turn about! turn about!' they hear him
shout,
As he hourishes whip and rein
you've home aud good friend yet, you'll
find!"
A coach Is following close behind:
A face-a voice-Oh, Heaven be kind!
Oh, lips that tremble and tears that blind!
On, breaking hcartsl IT'S JANE!
u 4. TrOlUbridge, In Our Continent.