Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1886-09-18
A POEM IN FOUR r

Oh, the breczes are blowing fresh and sl,ons.
The gay birds are singing in glec their son
The cattle are roaming the prairies green
Refreshingly sweet is this rural scene.
A farmers cot, beside a grassy hill
Among the trees, 10y Il rock -rippling rill,
Nestlcs there like a lone, dainty dove
In its coat Of drab, God'e .n'icln of love.
An old man sits restilg w.tinu tne door,
Pondering life's problems DER and DER.
Ills gentle dame spreads the evening tea,
And their only child is beyond the sea.
Long, long II seems since far frolc .heii side,
Their iassie crossed over the ocean wide.
For her coming back to the old homestead,
They have watched and waited TIL hope is
dead.
Fresh laurels' green blossoms, sparkling and
rare,
Deck that daughters brow and bright col
hair:
But, ~ can not come homc,'' is her sure plea
That makes the old folk cad as they can be.
For what can suffice a parents fond heart
If it keeps from them their own apart!
What can repay their deep longings, wild,
To clasp once agai in their arms, their child!
\ y
The train shrieks, loud laundering, into sight;
Its heavy vapors take Ali upward flight,
The farmer says, signing, THAT smoke, dear
wife,
Darkens the sky as our sorrow, my life"
"But, john her sweet, quayering tones re-
ply,
"Wc yet have each other, you, Love, and !,
And, see, though black the smoke from the
stack
1t fades as it takes the broad upward trackN
"You are right, dear wife," ne mu~mcrs
AS be gently strokes her soft locks Of snow
And presses a kiss on her wrinkled brow,
Never fairer TO his loving eyes than now.
1--WE have walked life's rugged path togethe
In sunshine bright. aud cold, wintry weathc
We have plucked sweet flowers along
way
Thorns oft they hid in their foliage gay.
Yours ever the task to discern them hid,
Mine To pluck out from he flowers amid.
We will strive on to our journeys end,
And the Father to guide his grace will lend.
Y x II Y X
The birds still sing their song OF praise;
The cattle nov horn"ward the prairics' Craze;
The train has stopped 1t the station near by,
With grumblings loud and maniacal cry,
To leave one nassepper a lad; fair
Who perpleyedly gazes about her there;
Till a ~lustrous light Giows In her dark eyes
AS the old farm hou.e Of drab she cspies.
Quickly she crosses the green, grassy moore,
Unnoticed She passes the threshold door,
While the aged pair, at their frugal meal,
Try TO steal from their woe some iot of veal.
Speak in softencd tones Of the absent one;
Absolve her from blame Of duties undone,
Recall her cute ways, her love winning art,
And censure themselves for doubling her
heart.
Strive graceful to yield to the will of their
God,
TIL above their musings is heard a sob.
The farmer looks up in deep surprise,
Endeayors his deep amaze to disguise.
Struggles hard to offer reception meet,
The lady, though a stranger, TO kindly greet;
But the words Of welcome die on his tongue
Ere the homely phrase is well begun.
For mother has folded the stranger ,,ss
To her throbbing heart with rapturous kiss.
And flashes her guide man an old time glance,
While roses once more on her pale cheeks
Bewildered he gazes upon the pair,
With 81 dazed look and an awkward air,
Till like the full burst OF a sudden sun
An idea dawns his mind upon.
And he hastcns to clasp to his aching breast
His wife and child, all of earth he loves best.
And long and close is the fond embrace;
A speaking silence fills blissful the place.
For holy love in supreme moments Of joy
Finds in uttered words simply COLDS alloy;
And hearts that are brimful to overflow
Speak a language that only such can know.
4 IL 4 " Il
The cattle are lowing as twilight falls;
The birds are wooibg their mates with sweet
calls;
FathSi, mother and child sit hand in hand,
On the old step stone, while by breozes famed.
The green leaves rustic an old time tune,
The flowers breathe forth a sweet perfume:
The lassie soft speaks in hushed, hated tone,
Promise afar no more TO roam
Asks father to thank the Giver Of all
That ere twas too late she heard the home call.
And angels whispers resound through the air,
Sweet harmony make with the evening prayer.
Took Advantage Of the Decline.
Detroit Free Press: A ncwsboy who
was eating away at a yellow banana,
while he had two red ones stuffed in
his pockets, was approached by an