Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1899-07-01
THE SWEET SINGER OF HAMP,
SHIRE.

In the Old graveyard at Romney, be-
SIDE the remains Of his loved ones, quiet
" sleeps Marshal S. Cornwell, the sweet
singer Of Hampshire. Those who knew
him, loved him, for he was loyal friend
and dear companion. He was born a
poet Ills thoughts were Of the dark
wood splashing water and waving grain
field He dreamed of blue skies. giori-
Gus with golden radiance; Of the old
ocean with its mighty swell and pillows; Of
the quie graveyard; Of the old homestead
Of the beautiful and lovable in man and
nature. Though mere boy when most
of bis poems were written, he was even
then distinguished, and was never so well
satisfied as when he could sit in silent
meditation, away from the din of the city
marts, out in the country, with birds car
0 ing in the trees, droning insects sweep
ing by on lazy wing, and the perfume OF
wild flowers seeming the air. His life
tear, of wandering and homecoming.
Who can imagine his feelings as he real
lied that horrible disease was sapping
his vitality, and hurrying him to the
grave2 Who can measure the heart
pangs and anguish as he turned his foot
steps homeward from the howery glades
Of Florida, to rest in peace at Romney?
There is something so pathetic in his
life, and so noble and grand in his peace
ful DEATH that tears start unbidden and
the heart throbs with sympathy as one
stands by his grave.
Marshal S. Cornwell was an honor to
himself and to his State. Among her men
of letters he will ever occupy a prominent
position. His poems will live forever.
They immortal gems. They touch the
soul and inger in memory, like the scent
of the violet bed, or the sweet brier rose.
Pathos, purity, description, rhythm, family
love, sweet natures balms- ali harmoni-
ously blend, and charm the reader.
Yet this man died at the age of II
years Why should his harp strings so
soon part asunder? Why should the
world lose the sweet influence of his life
and poetry?
West Virginians should know more Of
this man. They should study his writings.
They should feel the inspiration of his
songs and sonnets. We shall here APP
pend several of his best poems:
SUCCESS.
Two ships sail over the harbor bar,
With the flush of the morning breeze.
And both are bound for haven, far
Der the shimmering summer seas.
With sails all set, fair wind and tide,
They steer for the open MAN,
But little they reck of the pillows wide,
Fer they anchor safe again.
There is one, perchance, e'er the summer
is done,
| That reaches the port affair."
She hears the sound of the welcoming gun
| AS she crosses the harbor bar.
The haven she reaches, success. It's said,
Is the end of the perilous trip,
| Perchance cen the bravest and best are
dead,
Who sailed in the fortunate ship.
The other, bereft of shroud and sail,
At the mercy of wind and tide,
Is swept by the might of pitiless gale,
Meath the pillows dark and wide.
But tbs only the one in the harbor there
That receiveth the mead of praise;
The other sailed when the morn was fair,
And was lost in the stormy ways.
And so to men who have won renown
In the weary battle of life.
There cometh at last the victors crown,
Not to him who fell in the strife.
For the world recks not of those who fail,
Nor cares what their trials are,
Only praises the ship that with swelling
sail.
Comes in DER the harbor bar.