St. Landry democrat., 1884-07-05
AFTER THE SALE.

The waron, with high fantastic load
OF h0usa hold goods, is at the gate;
The shadows darkcn down the road;
Why does the old man wait!
Brreau bedsteHd, rOcking-chair,
Upturned table with heels in air
Whatever the grudging fates would spare, p
Lies huddled and hGaped anu tuInpled theEes
A melancholy freight!
Of all his riches, the tcamster said,
blanket and bed for his old gray head,
For all his lifelong pains.
Hard case, own! but they say that PRIDE
Must have a fall" His ropes he tied
In tho chill March wind. Hurry upP' he
And gathered in the reius.
The old wife bows her stricken face
On the doorstone, weary and worn and gray,
The old maa fingers about the place,
Taking a last survey;
Looks in once more at the great barn door,
On the empty NOW and the vacant floor:
All the gains of his life have gone before,
And why should he care to stay2
Only stool with a broken leg
is left, and bucket without pail.
The harness is gone from hook ana peg,
Even the whip from it's nail:
Dreary shadows hang from the wall,
No friendly whinny from shed or stan,
Nor unmi ked heifers welcoming CALI,
The poultry and pigs have H SanlSned' E1a eA bgEg
Swept out by the Sheriff 8 sale
Back to the door-yard we'll he goes
For parting look, a farewell drink.
How driDpngly that bucket rose
And poised for him on the brink
In the summers gone, and FLASHED his feet
When the men came in from the harvest neatt
How blessedly cool the draught how sweet,
'Tis misery now to think.
What scenes of petceful, prosperous life
Once filled the yard, so dcsOtate now!
When he often would say to his pleased, proud
wife,
That the farm appeared, somehow,
With its cattle in pasture and swine in pens,
Bleating of lambs and cackle of hens,
And well-stored crib and NOW.
The early 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.
She came to him hopeful and strong and fair
Now who is the sad wrath sitting there,
With her burden of grief and her old thin hair
Bowed over her feeble frame?
"Do you remember? This WELL" he said,
Was sunk that summer when Jane was
She used to stand in the old house-shed
And blow the dinner-horn
IN after years-or climb rail
OF the door-yard fence for CHEEKY hail
Then run to the curb for brimmtng PAIL
When came up from the corn.
Why think of her now? against whose name.
Whose memory in their lives became
sorrow that never has healed.
Her step is on the creaking stair,
Her girlish image is eVeryWherel
He hears her laughter, he sees her hair
Blow back in the wind, as she comes TO Dear
His luncheon to the field.
"'Twas terrible wrong!'' The old wife
spoke,
swaying her gaunt frame to and fro.
I'll say It now!' Her strained voice broke
"It haunts me awake, 1T haunts me asleepi
And silence has been SO hard to keep
So long!-But there is a grief too deep
For ever man to knoW!
A ouaver of anguish shook his tone,
His look was pierced with keen remorses
IS The blame, suppose, was all my own;
And have no heart, of course!
Great Heaven! nor any grief to hide!
Lifting his gloomy hat aside,
He looked up, haggard and hollow-eyed,
Like one whose burning soul had dried
His tears at their very source.
mo, no! don't mean that" she wept,
I've felt you suffering many day,
and often at night when yon thought islepE
And when have heard you pray,
Until it seemed that my heart would burst.
And as for the blame, you know, at first,
claimed you we're right and did my worst
To force her to obey
"For the dream of our lives had been to make
Our Jane a lady fit for lord;
Our schemes were all for our children's sake
And it seemed 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 and sterns
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 agaln-hOw homesickly
Iyearn, and yearn, and yearn!
s' She chose for herself, and who can tell2
She braved your will, it's true, and yet
She may, for all that, have chosen well.
And how can we forget?
We chose for Alice, and unaWareS
Rushed with her into rich mans snares,
Who tangled us up in his loose affairs,
And dragged us down with debt
Well, well!"-with heavy sigh-"Lefs. goi
haven't been always wise. All, janet
Some things might not be done just so,
If they were to do again.
But Alice is dead and the farm is gone;
Our hopes, and all that we built them on,
Friends, wealth. arc scattered hither and yon.
And only ourselves remain.
'These boughs will blossom and fruits will
fall
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 home for our pride and ease,
| We little thought these were all to please
Strangers who knew us not!
IS Others will reap where we have sown;
But others never can understand
! What watchfui care these fields have knoWns
| Or how loved the land
| Here maids will marry and babes be born,
The sun will shine on the wheat and corn,
Crops be gathered and sheep be ShOrn,
But by a strangers hand.