Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1885-09-11
COURTSHIP THREE SCORE AND TEN
HIS LETTER.
mi ',...l

Ana the people, halfv hearted.
Going through the open door
You. bride, that day departed
And my heart was bruised and sore.
Youth is strong to turn from sorrow,
Hope springs ever in the breast"
And there came brighter morrow
Where my soul found peace and rest,
While my hands toiled for another,
Fairer than the blush OF morn.
When the mist SpriteS kiss each other
And the dew is on the corn.
All is past, and death has only
Left. of old friends. You and me;
All. why should We wander lonely,
Borrowing by a shor'lss sea!
Age should never chill elections,
Love survives both t..le and tide;
Urge me not some tritc objection,
Hasten to me; be my b: de.
Spring shall come with sprClting willows,
Streams shall thaw and NAPLES bloom,
And the warm south air in pillows
Flow above the winter; tomb
l)iucNllS SN lIrlil,Ss, ToDliiS singing,
And the noise Of bleating herds
Call to us. the message bringing,
BE ye happy with the birds"
HER ANSWER
Your letter o cum to han, sir. an I'm told
You've done quite well in gitten lans an
gold
An worl'ly gear: much better than
thought
You would when l was young; an when
you sought
My han, eff you remember, an sed
. liked you, but my heart bclied my head"
Alden, as rest | could chicken back the
tears,
That "marryin means fur all the comm
years"
"Your good said l. IAN stiddy brave an
true:
But poets can't make ends meet an so You
Stood there n p!eadin, with your fearful eyes,
Till all the world seemed full Of grief an signs; ;
But this ere level head of mine said " No"
An, though my heart said YES" / babe
You 80.
The han tibet marks the ccntry's run half
roun,
An SHOWS of fifty winters sifted down
Since then, an now tibet same old tune
Is strivin to turn December into June,
An melt the gathered frssts of age an time
With an old lovers sentermcntal rhyme
Lord bless you, John. you'd take me for q
mummy
,n1rlI I .,,,
| set an knit, an think the old times over
Old home, old friends, old playmates an old
lover,
They all rise up past nearer things an dearer,
For back lords childhood mem'ry's sky gifts
clearer.
But greatgran mothers can't be gals, reckon,
No more nor gran'thers beaux, at call an
beckon,
Or last years leaves, all withered, dry an
faded,
Can rise in woods the frost has neer invaded.
Don't dream, old friend, tibet winters ice an
snow is
The budden spring times crocusses an roses,
Or yaller cowslps, brimmed with golden
latter,
Can sprout by frozen brooks, or that, here
after,
Yourself an me, revcrsin Matters fashion,
Shall live again Youths trrlstful love and
passion.
don't like poetry, can't never like it;
An eff he'd the power I'd up an strike it
Out of existence, for, twas only that
Made me refuse my early lover pat,
An turn away dissatisfied an mean;
An now it comes agin, u paintn green
Life s brown old stubble, an calm swallers
An katydids from out the frozen hollers,
AN hidden age with love go lightly strayen
Where govt belongs an rheumatic is playen;
Picterin old gran'ma Us rosy maiden,
Treadin, in virgin coyness. youths fair alden,
An maken bleeve renew, in spite of reason,
The flown sap, as in the vernal season,
In leafless branches, by the storm winds
shaken,
Which all song birds but memry's has for
Come, John, and see me, Jest to learn how
nice
That poet mater Of yourn has fooled YOU
twice.
Wen talk old times, and how to be forgiven
For all our sins, an jog along lords heaven,
Nor think nor dream Of youthful Cupd's
wingen,
When we should listen for the angels singer,
An be moven for'ard, sure an steady,
A striven an prayer to be ready
For layen down each earthly care an burden.
To meet our youth on t'other side of Jordan.
The Bible says there amt no marryin there,
Nor nothin WORTHY breathes the heavenly air;
An what would happy angels good an wise,
Think an remark, eff looken from the skies
They'd see us weak old fools in marriage
given,
As eff to make our honeymoon in heaven.
No. John, we'll soon he as the angels are
Beyon the shinen realms ii sun an star.
Till there we meet shell continer still
Your bowed On trem'lin friend, Penina Hill.
BENZ. S. PARKER