Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1893-09-06
AFTER THE FIRE.
BY THE PILGRIM BARD.

BY THE PILGRIM BARD.
my home, and dedicated tn my friends.
lis past the witching hour
| When pass the hands upon the dial platte
And night makes turn toward approaching
| dawn;
And wandering spook and sprite themselves
bestir
And soon must HE them to their wonted haunt.
Dread silence reigns supreme,
save when the beetles drowsy, droning note
Is mingled with the cricket's measured chirp,
or proving wolf among the neighboring hills
Makes night more irksome with his dismal howl.
Alone sit buried in brooding thought
All through the silent watches Of the night
My sleepless eyes have kept
Vigil5, beside the smoking, smouldering heap
OF ashes. that remain a gloomy monitor,
| All that is left me of my humble home.
VINO shall gainsay my spirits visioned scope
Ger fancy's range, or who my thoughts estop,
And call my close communion with the Muse.
Or converse with the Fays of other worlds,
But weird vibrations of fevered BRAIN
True Christians bend the knee and lift the voice
To unseen Gods, whom they by faith adore,
tTheIr God is mine, love them for their faith J
Even the heather hath his solemn rites,
| Although abhOrent, must not be ignored.
For all mankind alike
Seedarkly now, yet through the self same glass.
The futures dark enigma none may read;
Death, only death, will rend the veil beyond.
Close by me, cen within
| The measure of my outstretched arm
Lie wrapped in slumbers silent mantle, all
Ny loved ones, who have ever shared with me,
JOY when twas joy, and sorrow when its shade
Fell full across our pathway here below;
The earth their bed, the sky their canopy,
fercnance they dream. of home. dear home
Alas none know its value till twas gone
| The glorious sun shines sweet
Upon the green robed lap of earth In sprinp
The warbler thils his lay from bush and tree.
While all mankind rejoice and bird and beast
And every creeping thing,
AT Natures fount drink draughts Of ecetacy.
But hush! wondrous change
| Steals On apace, tits gloomy winter, now:
Nature is all disrobed of rich attire,
The trees are naked, and the grass is gray.
Shorn of his warmth the great day God hath
donned
a Tar on shivering, silent, sickly CLEAN,
And often hides behind an ominous sky.
AS though ashamed for lack of brilliancy.
Then quickly doth weak mortal mind revert
Back to the pleasant days of balmy spring,
All then it is we fully realize
How bright, how very sweet, the sunshine was.
Alack! my wildered mind,
trow thou art wandering far, too far;
Inc CLOCK from out yon shapeless ashen heap.
Seems, Phoenix like. to rise and tell the hour:
l must at once my rambling thoughts convoke.
Lest morning dawn and drive the Muse AWAY.
LIS it vision, no, it's not dream,
Mine eyes are closed not, yet gaze and see.
| My home intact just as on yester morn
saw 1t standing, on the brooklet's bank;
The weather beaten roof
| Der which the ponderous BELL for many a year.
Swung to and fro, and with its changing sound
Broke short full many a neighbours morning
| nap;
OFT hath it TOLD a solemn, parting kneu
For the old year the while he passed away,
Then changed its clangor to a Joyous peal
| OF welcome to the coming CT the new,
But yester morn its ringing long and loud
Welcomed the dawn of independence day;
Dismantled now, rent by the fall in twain,
| Twill swing no more, twill never ring again.
| Mortal, lesson learn, tits like to thee
| Hopes fondest idols often fall to dust,
At morn, a being full of life and Joy,
AT eve, may be a lifeless lump of clay.
Still rest mine eyes upon the magic scene,
| The dark ungarnished sides, the front the rea,,
| The low square porch that kept the glaring sun
| From out the southern door at mondays hour;
| Yes, all are there, and now
By instinct fancy am led within;
| IT'S silent all. and yet how passing strange,
| The portraits of our kindred on the wall
| Have shape assumed and forms of normal size
Just as saw them in the days agone;
They are not mortal, for they do not speak,
And with grave gestures motion me away;
The mirror poises 'twixt the antler's prongs,
Upon its polished surface rests my eyes.
Instinotively 1 start, tits not my face
Reflected back, tbs one relentless death
Hath taken from me long, long years ago,
Leaving an aching void time ne er can heals
Those eyes Of blue, that golden, sunny hair,
That sad sweet smile from parted lips of pink
IT'S Mabel, it's my Angel sister, dear.
By death so far removed, yet ever near;
| When sorely tossed upon misfottune's sea,
'Tis then my guardian spirit comes to me.
But bark! the cock crows shrill,
The dawn approaches, and the hour is three,
IT'S signal for the elfs to cease their prowl
And hasten to their places of confine,
A swishing sound, a rush as Of the wind
And all are gone, know not reck not where,
And last of all, the Muse has left me too,
In the dim distance SOUNDS her faint adieu.
CASEMA, July 5th, 1893,