The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1889-01-12
sim Crying for the Noon.
From the London Queen.

From the London Queen.
There is no use in denying tit is
a folly We must all plead guilty to,
and which we commit all our lives
long, more or less. As children it
was the actual moon we wanted-the
pale silver crescent, or the golden har-
vest moon that we could see shining
SO far above us in the clear sky and
from our nursery window. So far
above usl Yes; that is, after all the
grand secret of most of our wishes in
childhood, as well as in later years.
What we desire is SO far off, so diff.
cult of attainment. AS years pass
by and we grow older, though often
not wiser, it is no longer the moon
itself we want as q plaything; we are
content by that time to see it in it's
proper place, shining placidly above,
and our wandering fancy leads us in
a rowing search after will-o'-
the. wisps and newer lights.
Sometimes one hears of man vast
ing his whole life in this restless
craving for some object totally out
of his reach. Openings of success
are given him, honors, chances of
distinguishing himself lie before him.
He has only to stretch out his hand
and take them, but he passes them
carelessly by, perhaps because they
are so accessible, and fixes his eyes
and longings on an impossibility. He
treads ruthlessly under foot the red
roses oflife growing about his path
as he hurries by in his eager search
Tor blue rose. He is man of one
idea, and that foolish one, and the
will-'o-the-wisp that he follows leads
over marshy grounds and into
many dangers; sometimes. may be
to his own destruction. Why is it,
wonder, that this longing for the
unattainable is SO strongly implanted
in our nature? And is there not,
perhaps, greater pleasure really in
the pursuit than there would be even
in the possession of the desired OBJ
ject itself? Might it not happen
that the blue rose would wither at a
touch, aud the much-coveted golden
fruit turn to dust and ashes, like
the apples of the Dead sea? How
seldom one comes across a person who
is perfectly contented with his lot in
life, and who has absolutely no
crumpled rose leaf to disturb his
rest.
Sometimes our moon is riches,
sometimes fame and honor, and there
has been known cases of men eating
their hearts out for love that could
never be theirs, and wasting their
time and energy in the hooking light
of eyes whose brilliancy was not for
them. Every ones Individual case is
different, but the fact remains the
same. We all want something we
have not got; whether we should ap-
preciate it if it were ours is another
question and, as rule, onenot often |
proved. 1t is a mans nature to
wish most ardently for that which |
battles his pursuit and the more
obstacles there are in his way SO much |
the better. He will pass by the
simple wild flower to seek the rare
exotic whose beauty is perhaps in
less; but whose kind is
'arer.
1t must be a sad thought at the
end of a wasted life to look on all the
ong years misspentin a vain craving
or something unattainable, and to |
think of the many tangible blessings
We have left unheeded as things of
small account.
1t is of no use then to recall the
ost and the might have been, and in
hat clearer light which will come to
is all then, we shall see but too plain
y the insignificance and folly of our
dreams. 1t will seem so foolish then
10 have spent our lives in pursuit of
= shadow which always eluded our
grasp, and those wasted years will
never, never return to us. From the
summit of the steep hill we have
climbed we can see, ere we feebly tot
;er down the other side, our children
n the golden haze of the valley be-
ow setting off with bouyant heart
IN the same journey, only to meet
With the same disappointment as we
lave. And yet, if we try to impress
hem, does it make them any the
wiser in their turn? 1t may be folly,
md no doubt it is so; but it is folly
will continue to cling to, in
pite of precepts and counsels, and
lappy indeed are those few rare ex-
options who obtain their hearts de-
ire.