Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1886-05-13
A DEAD POET.


cts is so small at present that the deaIh
of one leaves a marked vacancy III Ine
roll of names. Whether Father Ryan,
who died at St. Louis, recently was one
of the great poets of the country, Is a
matter of some dispute, but in bis ner
yous style, beauty of language, striking
thoughts, he deserves to rank far above
the ordinary. His best known work,
"Tbe Valley of Silence" or the song OF
the mystic, is a wonderfully fascinating
composition, and will bear reproduction
here in full:
Iwalked down the Valley of Silence,
Down the m,voiceless valley alone.
And heard not the voice of footstep
Around me-save Gods and my own!
And the hush of my heart is as holy
As hovers where angels have flown.
Long ago was l weary of voices
Whose music my heart could not wln
Long ago was | weary of noises
That fretted my soul with their din;
Long ago was weary Of places
Where | met but the Human, and SlH.
1 walked through the world with the
worldly;
| craved what the world never gave;
And | said: In the world, each Ideal,
That shines like star on life's wave
Is toned on the shores of the Real,
And sleeps like dream in grave.
And still did l pine for the Perfect,
And still did L pine for the Perfect,
And still found the False with the True
/ sought mid the Human for Heaven,
But caught a mere glimpse of its blue
And | wept when the clouds OF the Nor
Yelled even that glimpse from my
view.
And toiled on, heart-tired of the HUI
man;
And | mourned mid the maZes of men;
Till knelt long ago at an altar
And heard a voice call me; since then
/ walked down the Valley of Silence
Thai lies far beyond mortal ken.
Do you ask what found in the Valley
'Tis my trysting- place with the Divine;
And | fell at the feet of the Holy
And about me voice said: BE Mine-
And then rose from the depths of my
spirit
An echo: my heart shall be thine
Do you ask how live in the Valley?
| weep, and l dream, and pray;
But nv tears are as sweet as the dew
drops
That fall on the roses of May;
And my prayer, like d perfume from
censer,
Ascended to God, night and day.
In the hush of the Valley of Silence,
dream all the songs that | sing;
And the music floats down the dim Vail
ley,
Till each finds a word for wing.
That to men, like the doves of the Deluge,
The message of Peace they may bring
But far on the deep there are billOws
That never shall break on the beach
And l heard sengs in the Silence
That never shall float into speech;
And have had dreams in the Valley
Too lofty for language to reach.
And have seen thoughts in the Valley
Alb, me; how my spirit was stirredl
And they wear holy wells on their faces
Their footsteps can scarcely be heard
They pass through the Valley, like Vir>
gins
Too pure for the touch of word.
Do YOU ask me the place of the Valley.
Ye hearts that are narrowed with care ?
1t lieth afar between mountains,
And God and his angels are there;
And one is the dark mount of Sorrow,
And one the bright mountain OF Prayer.
Abram ]. Ryan was born in Virginia
in 1910. He was educatec as a Roman
Catholic priest. The waT breaking out
Just as he was of age,and his brother en-
tering the rebel army, Father Ryan also
followed its fortunes in a sacerdotal ca
pacity. At the close of the war he was
for time located at Nashville, and la+
ter at Clsrksville. For a number of
Years he was at Biloxi, Miss, near Beau
vuir, the retreat of jefferson Davis, and
there became more closely the friend of
the eX-PreSldent OF the Confeaeracy. Id
1888, he was for time at Boston Col
lege, and at Montreal, and later made a
lecture tour of the Northern States. lie
was an ardent Southerner, close friend
of jefferson Davis, and an ardent admi-
Ter Of Robert E. Lee. A late volume of
his poems contains vignette on the first
page, the Southern flag is flying aloft
through the clouds to the stars, and be-
meath runs the legend, wrought into the
heavens:
The warriors banner takes its flight
40 greet the warriors soul"
One of the latest productions of Father
Ryan's pen is poem, -Four Thousand