The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1889-07-31

The servant and
His lord; the peasant and the king. are each
Alike the objects Of thy tireless search
And when it pleaseth thee to call, no bolts
No bars can hinder thy approach, nor stay
Thy cruel hand. The pleading eyes OF grief
Are turned to thee in vain, as thy dark
Shadow falls across the threshold OF the
Home, or gathers like tie mists OF night on
Pillows soft as down, on which repose the
Forms Of those we dearly love. But tears do
Not avail, death, to touch heart so
Gold as thine for thou has never felt one
Throb of sympathy or love, and signs and
Sobs have never moved or melted thee
At all; nor prayers Of bleeding, broken
Heart has ever stayed the power OF
Thy descending blow. The hand OF skill has
Tried in vain to beat thee back, and wrest
from
Thy unyielding grasp thine arrows dipped
In gall and aimed at those whose deeds OF
Love have been benediction to the
World, but with one stroke Of thy uplifted
Rod the hand Of love itself was chilled,
And he who sought to drive thee from thy
prey
Fell pulseless at thy feet
No conqueror
Ever rode the fiery steeds Of war DER
Bloody fields of strife, or led his marshaled
Hosts with such restless power amidst
Thy fray OF DEATH that, with his laurels yet
Upon his brown, thou hast not wrested from
his
Hand his blood-stained sword, and led him
AS captive TO the grave. The earth has
Come to be but one vast burial place-a
World Of tombs-an empire where the dead are
More than all the living
Every day the
Air is vocal with the sound of muffed bells,
AS in their slow and measured tones, they tell
The living thou has come again. ''Thou hast
All seasons for thine own" for summer heat
And winters chilling blasts; the dreamy days
When autumn comes with golden fruits and
stores
or garnered grain; and spring time with its
clear
Blue Skies and swelling buds, and singing
birds,
Are all alike to thee No prairies are
So vast no mountain ranges stretch so far
Nor SUBMITS rise so high that thou dost not
Explore them all, in search of those who
sought
A place on which thy shadows never fall.
Thou ridest on the pillows Of the deep
Amidst the tempests roar, and dashing waves
Where floats the ship of every land, freighted
With living souls in search of sunny climes
But even there thy cold dark shadows falls
Like frost upon the tender flowers of
Spring, and soon the merry laugh and joyous
Song are changed into dirge OF death,
Down in old oceans caves, in wakeless sleep.
Uncounted thousands lie, which fell beneath
Thy-withering TOUCH unmindful Of the
Hideous forms which creep and crawl and float
About them, and needing not the voices
n %bf,a nn ;ob anh,, fro,, I, el,,
Vaults in which repose the loved and lost
and
Whom the longing heart no more shnll sec
till
Thv dark reich shall end
Oh, God Of Heaven!
And is this all there is Of life? A dream
OF love and bliss; day Of fitful smiles
And tears; fellowship of loving hearts
In friendships sunny bowers for just a few
Brief days or years, and then left all alone
Amidst the awful gloom of death! Are all
The longings of the soul for truth and love,
Its ceaseless yearnngs for immortal life;
Our golden dream of changeless bliss where
Shall meet apain our loved and ,ost n cheat,
A mocl,inp voice that lures ne on amidst
Onr tears and ,omhs on1 ,hon aasar,s ne 4,
Tbe lonliness Of Iife,s last horny
No, No,
Poor heart, 1t can not be that He who gave
His own in Kind ont of the ientbs n, who,
+h;,s,;n,r yor , h;,.ho, ,,eo .,s.,s.. 80.