The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1888-05-31
For the Journal.l
The Ruined House.

Just on the hill it stands, so lone and old;
Its red brown gables dark against the sun:
The sunken roof is matched with moss, and gold
Brown patches dot the shingles one by one.
From out the briars rank, the windows CLEAN,
No face Is pressed against the tiny pane,
Rut now ray of sun with dying beam
Lends transient life and brightness again.
The shutters rattle on their hinges old,
A. wild the winds, their drearv message bring,
The shrunken door sill, scarce cur weight will hold
And ruin and decay shroud everything.
The giant elms spread wide their branches green,
As if to shield with plying arms the place,
Along the terrace old, the walks between,
The flowers neglected. bloom in tender grace
The lilac bushes stand beside the wall,
And year by year, put forth their flowers gay,
In pitving kindness the sweet blossoms fail.
Ana strive 10 hide The trace Of FAD decay.
The spreading rose trees in their Wild perfume,
Grow down the bank and near the roadside by,
Unconscious of the silence. still they bloom,
And children pluck them in their beauty Shy.
Within is dust and mold, ana silence ,ilear.
No sound breaks tho' the stiffness, save oul
tread,
We pause and falter, trembling half in fear
Lest vandal footstep, may disturb the dead.
All, once within those rooms, deserted. cold,
sounded the merry tread OF chl!dlcne ftct.
And fresh Young voices, always clear and bold,
Echoed IN joyous laughter, pure aid sweet.
In yonder west room, when the evening sun.
tlldcd with radiance every happ! face,
There in sweet faith. the daughter fair was Won
And pledged her vows in tender grlieh grace.
Just through the wide old hall. where always soo'
The tail old clock. We see The "miodle room,
There every favored guest in gracious mood,
Was hidden welcome to the quaint old home.
From that dear room the mother babe adieu
To those whom duty called in clarion tone,
She watched them march away In army blue
With outward pride, hut inward tear and sr"aI
In that old room, one sunny summer mora.
With shutters closed IN darkened solitude,
" 18th farcst flowers OF 'iewy fragrance borne
IN somher state Nalni, q coffin stood.
| Ger that worn sill the sad procession went.
/ Past the gnarled orchard and the old well sweep
| In duty kind, on tender crrand bent
| To mourn with mourncrs, and with tht m 10 wee y
| Above the orchard, and below the hill.
That swept from north to east in OutI II bold,
| There sleeps the Village silent, white. and still
With aspons qulNcrlng Ger the marble colt.
! Beneath the weeping willows bcniing low,
BY linchcn covered rock, wet with the dew
| Hidden alike for aye, from friend and foe,
They laid away IRON sight the Christian true.
And what of those who left the Old home nest
The proud young hearts with spirits true an'
| brave?
/ OH western plain, and southern slope they vest
And one sleeps low beneath the ocean wave
No trace of life OF love remaineth there.
! Only the memories that finger round the dead
| Only dried leaves instead of blossoms fair.
For thee shall dawn no resurrection day.
| Ghost of what once Was--drearV. de solatc.-
Yet touched with all the charms that -uuhc de
cay. HELEN \. PACKARD.