The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1883-01-11
THE PICTURES IN THE FIRE.
An Allegory.
Composed and read at the Annual Re-
union at Lynnville Academy,
Dec. p, 1882, by
WILL. NJ. SHIELDS.

| | I4o QlgQL WAS QaIk, the vino nOhuoO 0Ioa
as it tossed the trees about,
While low'riug clouds spoke of little chez
To those who were shut without.
1.shuddered as ] turned within
To my room where the fire was bright;
thought of the woes of this world of sin
And pitied those who might've been
Out in that dreary night.
And seated there by the cheerful blaze,
While tn Goals were aglow with heat,
unused of those in the worlds by-ways
For whom life held no sweet.
And musirg thus my spirit tGrned
To Poesy's land of green,
And in the Goals that brightly burned
My rowing fancy soon discerned
A picture of varied mein.
gazed on family circle large
Under one rcof-tree grand
Unbroken by Deaths murdareus charge
Over stricken.land.
Many and sweet were the songs they sang
Making the roof-tree chime;-
From room to room the old house rang
With th' bealthful mirth OF the noisy gang,
! Bod1ng no wreck of time.
1 thought as gazed on each happy face
| That they could know no care,
TIME would be rude should he leave trace
OF his terrible workings there.
80, God,h prayed, MAY their lot e'er be
|
Let not grim Discord enviously,
Nor Time in his ,ravages ruthlessly,
disturb such holy bliss"
To watch them thus wished to do,
But Fancy with rapid wings
Bore me away to pictures new
That savored of earthly things.
Over the land and over the sea,
Over each mountain and vale
Some pictures l saw seemed bright to me;
But each sound that might've been one of
glee
Was drowned By misery's wall.
The moments were years as dreamed, and
swift
Was boren on Times rough stream;-
And falling coal but served to shift
The scenery of my dream.
Tired of the world my spirit flew
Back to my home scene rare:-
Twas little | dreamed and less / knew
Of the terrible work Time had to do,
Or the changes that he'd wrought there.
Those faces were gone that knew of yore,
For but two of them still were there;
One whose head was silvered DER,
And face that spoke of care.
He was the sire of that youthful fold
That knew ia years agone;
She was the youngest, (whose locks were
But her BABY face i. fast growing old
With trials thro' days that are flown.
"ohi where are the others,'' / cried in grief;
And my heart was sore at the sight;
l gazed on the scene for time that was
brief,
Then few again into the night
"Ohl tarry not here, but come, Fancy, with
And together on life's rugged road
We will search for the lost over mountain
and sea,
And gather them in wherever they be,
Nor leave them scattered abroad.
We flew to the-churoh yard and fingered
awhile,
Doubtful of how we should go;
smile
And helped me to read below.
Two names on the marble that cleaned IN
the light,
That of the mother and one
Quoth Fsncy: "Our search is but fruitless
The: others like birds are flown from our
sight,
And these two forever are gone"
"Ohl no." cried, fLet US never despair,
IT'S time that these two are gone,
But the others Pm sure are here somewhere
Out in the world alone.
We shall find them all il we are content
To search all the wide world through"
So we found them ell e'er the night was, spent,
One in his palace and one in his tent,
Each with his work to do.
Two we found, a daughter and son,
Each in q homo of wealth;
Times stream with them had smoothly run,
Bound in with peace and health.
But one we saw whose eyes were dim
With care, and his house was poor,
T C, aly 70 i'm
For his hands were tired of fighting the grim
And merciless wolf from his door.
One we found at the Masters work
Whenever it was required,
Nothing so hard that he could shirk,
Though his soul was often tired.
But two were far o'er the rolling earth
In alien lands to these;
Toiling for all that life is worth,
Signing at times tor the family hearth,
For their hearts were sore at ease.
So we brought them back to the family
hearth,
As they were in days of old;
Except the two over the rolling earth,
And those in the churceyard cold
sighed when thought of those two dead,
And wept for those away,
For ! saw them weep with eyes so red,
And heard them sigh for hopes that fed
at the going out of day.
"Oh! Time;" cried, "thou art cheat,
And dire thy workings all;
Thy woes o'erhalance every sweet
And all our thoughts enthrall.
How many dear ones thou hast driven
Away from us to roam;
How many families thou hast riven,
And blurred our sweetest type of Heaven
A cheerful, happy homer'
LINNvILLE-uPoN- -RoBERTzoN.
December %, 1882.