The Brookhaven leader., 1883-05-17

For The Brodhhaven Leader.

For The BroJshaven Leader.
Meath Southern sky of beauty,
Where the song birds loved to dwell,
Where the fragrant springtime lowrets
Days of joy did oft foretell;
Where the new spring leaflets Hsmbled
In the so #, caressing breeze,
Lay lovely little village,
With its homes among the trees.
Hours of sw eetest joy had numbered
Many day of gladness rare;
Purest friendship linked and fastened
Chains of love forever there.
True, the cloudlets came, and often
Swallowed days that else were bright,
True, there sorrow was to soften-
Joy to gladden., grief to-smite.
But these, coming like the summer,
Or the winter with its SNOW,
Like the shpwbirds or the songbirds,
But transient were and flying, SO
Whispered not of darker shadows,
Of deepest sorrow settling down
Black, eternal, aching sorrow
Der helpless, ruined town.
Twas morn of brightest sunshine
A holy Sabbath morn of love,
When to earth worn, weary mortals
Comes q sweet peace from above.
Hymns of praise and songs of gladness
Floated out upon the air,
While angel spirits, gently hov'ring. -
Seemed to breathe blessing there.
Little children, sweet and eager,
With their sparkling, sunny eyes
Tripped along midst smile and laughter i
Waited from the bright blue skies; -
While the soft winds famed the treetops
And the church bells chime was heard
And Gods faithful sainted servant y
Preached once more His "blessed Word.'
But, see! the clouds begin to gather! y
Is it thunder? Hear it roar! L
Look. the lightning flashes thicken! q
Meier looked the heavens so mad before.
Gather, children, round the fire
Close to loving mothers side,
Nestle, little heads of golden,-
Fathers gems and pearls of pride ~
Another mighty peal of thunder! II
Yet, told no lips of the loved to be slain,
Never word Of TIE gleesome children
Out meath the sod by strangers lain;
Never thought of the bowling demons
Flying maddened through the town.,
Never thought of the fvenging angel,
\ Resistless, fatal, coming down
Tearing loved and loved ones dearest
From the arms that ached to hold,
While those arms fell limp and helpless,
And ere long grew stiff and cold.
! Hank, the distant muttering's nearer.
Father! Mother! Sister! Friend!
IT'S the death-doom DER us sounding
All, too soon the final end
Comes in wrath the fell destroyer,
Snatching every bud and flower
Little babes from loving bosoms;
Hoary age in weakened power.
All is chaos! Rules the Storm King
| "A no king e'er ruled of yore;
Raging, dashing, foaming, gnashing;
Fen hope from trembling hearts he tore.
Black despair amidst such darkness
Never looked so black before.
Men forgot to pray; some maddened;
Rushed III fury to deaths door.
Look at men and women, children;
They fly like feathers thro' the air!
Look! the severed limbs-nevef,
Never a calm nor peace was there
Till that village, bright and lovely,
With its youth and maidens fair,
Lay a heap of shattered ruins
Grit about with dark despair;
| While the Storm King still as mighty
Rushed in madness from the scene,
Rushed insatiate and hungry,
Where, perchance, he ne'er had been;
Dealing death and dark destruction;
Dealing misery and woe,
Dealing all that out of Heaven
Makes hell to us below:
When the "Storm of Lifs' is over;
/ When the poor hearts cease to ache;
when the restless; fetered bodies
Their flight to realms of peace do take
Them will come the revelation
His ways are not our ways, you know
Sweet win be the Joys of Heaven
Because you lived and suffered so.
I ETHEL LYNN.
BRooKHAvEN, May l, 1888.
REV. T. Green. Baptist minister OF Beauregard
| who was killed by the storm.
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