The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1884-01-02
FALLEN.

T.- f...5wiag beautiful Poem, "hLtI
srigia..l appeared in lheIllustFated News
pubIi.a ii ia Richmond during the war b.
Me-sr. Agre- * Wa4r, has been going tn
rouna as 81 lhe papers OF the United State
for uaa,As pas; as an anonymous Produe
lien. I.was written by Capt. II. T. star
ION. OF the Confederate army, and Is one o
the most beautiful AID touching poems il
the English Ianguage.-Nashgille World
The iron voice from youder -pirc has hushet
iiz hollow tone,
And midnight finds m lying here,in silenc
aud alone;
The still moon throHg. my window shed
Ii soft light on the floor
With 4 melancholy p1lencss l have ne7e
seen before;
Aad the summer wind comes to me viii
il sad -Eolian lay,
A il burtheued with the sorrows. 9t &
weary, weary day;
Ie; the moonlight cannot syothe me oi the
sickness here within,
And the sad wind takes no portion Of my
J,som's weight oi sin.
Yet my heart aud all lis pulses seclas 50
quietly to rest,
That scarcely feel them beating ia my
arms or in my breast
AMI these rounded limbs are resting now
- still upon tn. bed,
That one would think 10 see me here that
was living dead
What If 'twere 20? What ii | died died
as am lying now,
Wi,h something like t1 virtues CIim upon
smarhir brow?
WAIST Il l died tonight? Al how this
-slhful heart begins to beat.
4 g1ilen wretch like me, TO pass from
earth 90 sadly sweet;
Yct am c,lm-as calm IS clouds that
slowly .lpal and form,
T,giye their cheerful strength to some uh-
plying summer storm;
A,rtiu a=grstt SIhGt5 crs lue eslmo1n sTep
its waste.
Or rs the wi,ls sea Crs the whita waves all
i,z shores have laced.
Still, still / have no tears TO shed-these
eyciii5 have n store
The fountain J:cc wIsAJu me IL 4 fountain
now 10 mere;
Ta= moon alone wrep5 Tor me now, the pale
auI lhoughtiul moon
She wae;,s fer dying Mary through "il the
ni ;ats sweet Noon.
Wn,t ii disI tonight, within these gilicd
wTeiynei wali-,
UpIl who's. crimson .trspPlugs no eye oi
virtue ever falls2
What would its souII.ss inmates do when
they al found me- mere,
vi car,k- too Waite is- passion = smile
tlo cr, / Tor passions tear?
Oh, une waul eaEe ana from these arms
unelasp thszs tsu5ls hsni':
AnJthsr wrench the sgel' oft my iaircr,
whittier hands!
This sPi-ndi3 r,he su,-t". 5 suEar u-aalll
grace. oh I""s before
The moonlight came 'ga'n to sleep upon
the floor
Aai when iHev lad me down IN e"t'h
where PauPer si-,v grave. are made, .-,
shade,
Who'd come and plant flower Ger poor
Mary's friemiIcss grave,
Or trim the tangled Wild gr4sa that no sum
mcr wiad could wave?
Who'd raise a stone to marx it from the
rudrr Graves around,
That the pasziny strangers footsteps might
respect the spot of ground
NJ stone would stand above me, no little
v,vina tree.
y, hand would plant flower DER a fallen
wretch like me.
Whu. If | diet tonight? And when to-
morrow sun had crept
slept,
Thay'd come, and find me here Oh who
would weep to see me dead?
Who'd bend the knee Of sorrow bv the
nul.,.less wanten'. bed?
There's one would come-my mother. God
bIass the angel band
Tint hare her. ere her daughter fell, to von-
der quiet land.
Thank God for all the anthems that the
gladdeu'd angels sung
When NV mother went to heaven. and
was pure and Young.
And there's another. too, would conc
man upon whose brow
rest so heavv now:
Yes hc would come, with manhood's tears
all burning down his cheek
Had reasons kingdom stronger been where
virtue grew so weak,
Nv sisters and my brothers. all, thank Godl
are far awav;
THEY'LL never know how died the one who
mingled in their play
Thev'U never know how wretcheilv their
darling sister died
The one who smiled wbene'er they smiled,
who cried whenc'er thev cried.
I'm all alone tonight! How strange 1t Is
that | should be alone
roue's wonted tone!
You soundless mirror, with its smooth and
all unvarnished face,
Sees not these ieweled arms tonight in
their unchaste embrace,
Oh! | have fled the fever of that heated,
crowded hall,
Where might claim the richest snd gay
est of them all,
Where could smile upon them, with that
easy wantoa grace
Which subdues the blood OF virtue that
p would struggle to my face
But hate them all. scorn them' as they
seorn me on the e,S s'Fes. H.. me-
lips SO often meet;
| could rample on the lucre thSt their pas
sion. A.never spares,
For They're robbed me OF heritage oi
greater price than theirs
They can never give me back again Whai
| have thrown away
The brightest jewel woman wears through
ogt her little day
Inc e7ightest ana the onlY one tlat IRON
the cluster riFen,
Shuts out forever womans heart from al
its hopes t0r Heaven.