St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1900-02-03
WHEN THE SON HAD THE DEED.

slowly the to!l-cramp5d- gnarled ola fist
Wrought at the sheet with rasping pen
Halted with trei-ulous quirk and twist,
Staggered. and then went On again.
The wan sun peeped through the we
patched pare
And chec,ltred the floor where pale beam
shoae
In quaint old kitchen down in Maine,
With an old man writing there alone
And the pen wrought on and the hea
dropped low
And tear plashed down on the rustic
As it traced a verse of the long ago
That his grief had brought to his hear
again.
young
Who loved thee SO fond,y IS he2
He caught the first accents that fell from
thy tongue,
And Joined in thy innocent glee.
Be kind TO thy father. for now he is old,
His locks intermingled with gray:
His footsteps are feeble, once fearless ant
bold
Thy father is passing away.
''Be kind to thy mother, for. 10, on her brow
May traces of sorrow be seen.
Oh, well mayst thou cherish and comfor
her now,
OI lUNlLS hiIu iid III she btci.
Remember thy mother, for thee she will
pray
AS long as God siveth her breath
With accents of kindness: then cheer he,
hard way
Fen through the dark valley of death"
Listlessly thrashed in a careless court,
The poor. pain tale of home was told,
Furnishing food for the lawyers sport
And a jest at the fond and the foolish old
The counsel said, as he winked an eye:
Decided the farm to their only son;
And after twas decided they didn't die
Qnite as quick as they should have done
Drearily dragged the homely case,
Petty and mean in all its parts:
Quest through the law for an old home
place,
But never a word of two broken hearts.
Only a suit where the son and wife
Pledged themselves. when they coaxed
the deed
To comfort the close Of the old folks life:
Only another case where greed
Sneered at the toll of the hard. hard years
OF martyrdom to the hoe and AK,
Writ in wrinkles and etched in tears
And told in the curve Of the old bent
backs,
Bent in the strife with the rocky soil,
When the grinding work was never done
With just one rift in the cloud of toll
Twas all for the sake of their only SON.
Simply a tedious legal maze
With neighbors stirring the thing for
sport,
And loungers ewing with listless gaze
This queer old couple dragged TO court.
Meekly they would have granted greed
All that it sought for-ali its spoil:
Little they valued forfeit deed,
Nor selishly reckoned their years of toll,
Heartsick they while the lawyers urged.
Mute when the law vouchsafed their
prayer
Courts soothed not such grief as surged
In the hearts of the old folks trembling
there.
What though the jury's word restored
The walls and roof of the old home place?
Would it give the m back the blessed hoard
of trust that knew no sons disgrace?
Would it give them back his hoyhood
smiles,
His boyhood love. their simple joy?
Would it heal the wounds of these after
whiles
And make him again their own dear boy ?
Would it soothe the smart of the cruel
words,
OF sullen looks and cold neglect?
And slashed where the wielders little
recked?
No: justice gives the walls and roof,
To paIsied hands a Cancelled deed,
Rebuking with a stern reproof
A sons unfilial. shameless greed.
But love that made that old home warm.
And hope that made all labor sweet,
The glow of peace that shamed the storm
And melted on the pane the sieet.
And faith and truth and loving hearts
And tender trust in fellow-men-
All. these. my friend, no lawyers arts
Can give again, can give again.
Holman Day. in Lewiston Journal