The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1895-09-19
nv ChildkoodT Hone.

The following poem, describing the old
Chase home by lake Winnecook in Unity.
Maine, was written BY the wife Of WIN. q.
Whitney Of Pittsfield, Me-, now deceased.
and was published in the Pittsfield Adyer.
tiser some years ago. send it to The Jour
nal by request. Mrs. Whitney's biocranhar
says OF her: "She combined the deep reli-
gious mysticism of Madame Greyon with a
poetic genius whose products are among the
treasured possessions of her friends" If it
were possible for one to live in this world
without sin, truly it could be said Of her. as
all who knew her pure Christian life will
readily testify. She was the daughter Of
Judge Hezekiah Chase Of Unity, whose rem
utation as just man and wise magistrate
was more than local one. OF his family
but one daughter is living, Mrs. Mary
Stevens Of Lewiston, Me. Although he had
several grandchildren, there are but two
who bear his name, viz, Pres. Chase Of
Bates College and his younger brother, Rev.
y. Aubury Chase OF Massachusetts, and on
the same old farm SO wildly described in
the poem they were born aud there grew to
manhood. When Mrs. Whitney was a child
the old house she mentions gave place to
the spacious one at the village and the old
home is now occupied by strangers, but on
the same soil from which her grandfathers
hand first removed the wilderness four gem
erations have each, in turn, lived and toiled
ana there slumber side by side, and with
the loved ones who shared her childhood
home" BY the lake and meadow, where
memory loved to dwell the author Of this
poem, too. sleeps amid the scenes Of 3 arly
days. S. J. Stevens
Again my thoughts from toll and care
Turn to that hallowed spot,
To contemplate those prisons fair.
Never to be forget;
Where oft on fancys glorious wings
My weary mind has flown,
To rest from all its wanderings
In childhood's happy home.
Fond fancy paints the rising ground
In robes OF green arrayed,
While glancing sunbeams throw around
Garlands of light and shade.
But dearer to my heart than all
Ger which those wreaths are thrown.
The messy roof and lowly wall
Of childhood's humble home.
The orchard and the meadow lie
In robes Of beauty drest,
The lake is mirroring the sky
Upon its CLASSY breast,
And, oh! methinks fair natures charms
Are in profusion thrown,
Where she encircles in her arms
My own loved childhood's home.
Yon shady walk, that blest retreat
With frs and pines o'erspread,
Where the soft breeze with music sweet
Blends it'll the balm they shed;
Beneath those branches broad and fair
What pure delight I've known,
When rambling with those loved ones there,
Who shared my chldhood's home.
But memory turns again to tell
OF the delightful shade
Which the pomegranate Ger the well
On its pure waters laid
Again does she display to me
Those treasures often shown,
The loved elms and each apple tree
That clustered round nv home
But the Old oak is dearer yet
Down where the wild rose bloomed,
And where the lowly violet
The zephyr's breath perfumed,
For in its shade, on the moist sod,
l bowed before heavens throne,
And breathed my earliest prayer to God
To tit me for his home
Now faith points upward to the skies,
The earthly visions flown,
Not where the dust Of loved ones lies
BY the green turf o'ergrown;
For they have long since left behind
A band on earth to roam,
Who trust with them in heaven to find
An everlasting home.
Mrs. ESTHER CHASE WHITNEY.