The age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1897-1902, 1899-04-16
THE MURMUR
OF THE WORLD

| The winds at last blow from the south,
my beloved-oh, blessed winds from the
south! They whisper story that l hear
| they tell a tale infinitely sweet and ten
| der and odorous of perfumes given of God
| in the forest. These same winds whisper
| the beautifullest, sweetest stories that ever
| came to any ear upon this planet. Whis-
per and shall hear! oh. infinite cadence
of love and enderness-marvelous anthem
| of warmth and tenderness, and loye-and
| the old, old story that has been told over
| and over again for hundred thousand
years. and will be told with infinite tender
ness so long as the good God rules and
| loves us all!
| The dogwood blossoms, the honeysuckle,
| the jassemine, the bay, the magnolia-they
| come to us laden with the warm breath
| of the south. All sweet and gracious things
| in this life are borne to us from the winds
| that blow from the south. Love is born in
| the south, the flowers bloom, the birds
| sing, the bees wheel their droning flights!
| The eternal arch of blue spans the south
| with radiance that does not dim, the stars
| are brighter, the sun swings in vast space
| with nobler lustre, Love comes OF the
south. Love born of southern heart is
| more passionate; more true; more noble in
| its great qualities of sacrifice and immola-
/ ton.
! 1t Is not to be said here that love is con-
| fined to the south-only it's breath is
| sweeter when borne upon the wings of
| those dear winds that blow from the south.
Love is of God-love is God. Love kisses
| the little child asleep and leaves the odor
| of the violet upon the lips of innocence.
| Love is mrrored in the rainbow, its face
| is upon the cloud, its voice is heard in the
| wondrous hymn of the stars. Love is
| truth-love cannot lie. Love is the hottest
/ sentiment possible to us in this life. Love
| cannot perish any more than God can pass.
| Love dominates the world and no man is
| worthy to live who does not love to love,
| and who does not throw his cap at the sun
| and give praise that it is given to him to
| love.
We go our respective ways, my beloved,
| but every way leads by the f1owery fields of
| love- Trust no man who hasn't loved
| woman or kissed one. Count no woman
| happy who hasn't loved or been Kissed, To
/ every honest man some pure woman beck
| ons across the wide plane of the years, and
breaks his heart or soothes it to the rest
1 fullest slumber God gives to man in this
| life. To every good and gracious woman
| some man calls, and her heart answers
/ with a great ana dli-aDOunulnS InaI
| causes the angels to rejoice far away yon-
| der where the angels dwell, and laugh and
| are glad when pure woman ON this globe
| commits her trust to good man.
|
| And love is still an emptier sound
| 1t is the modern fair ones jest;
| On earth unseen or only found
| To warm the turtles nest.
The gentle Goldsmith didn't mean that.
70 10 rfta1r hot IL
from the south. He who created the De-
| serted Village could not have doubted any
of the gentler attributes of humanity
| None but a man of the supreme power to
love could have limned Sweet Auburn in
immortal phrase. Who came to scott re-
ma!ned to pray. The village parson was
passing rich on forty pounds a year. In
| the Temple churchyard, hard by Temple
Bar, paid the poor little tribute of my
| tear to Oliver Goldsmith 1t was all 1 had
to give. Even it, poor little salty substance
that it was, could not do the Good Oliver
| service, resting there these two centuries
| with Gods dead in Gods acre!
Hate Is the passion of the furies in hell.
Hate is the forerunner of malice, of false
| witness, of theft in all its forms-of every
evil thing forbidden of the Decalogue
Hate creates murderers and all the baser
forms OF men and women. Hate robs the
flowers of their bloom. and little children
| of their joy. Hate allies al evil things
in the devils supreme cause. Hate
takes from the glory of the sunshine steals
from th- splendor of the hills, and dulls tho
sparkle of the brimmed brook as it laughs
on its way to the trimming sea. Hate
causes the fall of angels and the triumph of
evil men. Hate degrades, drags down,
makes unrighteous the righteous, and un
holy the holy. Hate is every thing that
love is not, and love is Godi
| y
Here is a double health to the lovers,
This is their time of all times Their hour
of all hours Is come. Love blossoms with
the flowers, buds with the trees, sings with
the birds, and laughs with the little chill
dren.
But soft! what light through yonder win
dow breaks!
1t is the east, and Juliet is the sum-
Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than
Il she:
1t is my lady; o, 1t is my love:
o, that she knew she were!-
She speaks. yet she says nothing. What
of that?
| Her ego discourseS, I will answer it.
| I am too bold, it's not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heavens
Having some business do entreat her eyes
TO twinkle in their sphere till they return.
All, beautiful love born in the cradle of
yesterday-born of the womb of a thousand
centuries! All, sweet love, brave love-
glorious love. calling to all men I'D women
across the span of the fiower-laden years.
THE MURMURER.