The sea coast echo., 1901-10-26
CONCERNING GOOD POETRY.


| CONCERNING GOOD POETRY,
The Echo is gratiiicd to note
1.-THE lively interest manifested fol-
lowing the request made in these
columns last week by" "a Reader"
for copy of the poem published
below. We are indebted for il
to Rev. Ireneus Trout, of this city.
Copies were also sent by Brother
Patrick, by "Anothor Reader
and anonymous" all of whom
have our thanks. The spreading
OF good poetry is as worthy as the
work of the author.
"Another Reader" writes: "Edi-
tor Echo, Dear Sir: Seeing a re-
guest in last issue of The Echo
some one desired the poem On.
closed, / send it. Would some
reader please send in "a Missis-
Ippi Grip"
LEGY, WRITTEN IN 4 COUNTRY CHURCH,
!, YARD--By Thomas Gray.
| Tho onrfow tolls tho knol OF tho parting day,
| The lowing herd winds slowly DER the lea,
| Tho plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and TO mo-
NOW fhdes the glimmerlng landscape on the sight,
And all the air n solemn stiffness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his dronlng flight,
And drowsy tinkllngs lull tho distant folds
Save that, from yonder lyy-mantled tower,
Fhe mopng owl docs TO the Moon complain
of suoh as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms that yew .trees shade
Whore heevcs the turf In many moudering heap
Enoh in his narrow cell for oyer laid
The rude forofathers of the hamlet sleep,
The breezy call Of flncenso-breathlng Morn,
the swallow twitterlng from the straw-bullt
shed,
The cocks shrIll clarion, or the echoIng horn,
No more shall rouse them from thelr lowly bed.
For thcm no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply hor evening caro:
Nor children run TO lisp thclr Bro's return,
Or climb his knee the envled kiss to share.
or did tho harvest TO their sickle yield,
Their furrow Oft tho stubborn globe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team a.1eld
How how'd the woods beneath their sturdy
strokol
Let not Ambition mock their useful toll
Their homely Joys, and destiny OBSCURE;
Nor grandeur hear, with disdaInful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
Tho boast OF horaldry, the pomp OF power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth eer gave,
Await aliko tn inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Nor you, ye proud, imputc 10 these the fault
If Memory DER their tomb no trophies raise,
h Were through the long-drawn aisle and fretted
vault
The pealing anthem swclls the note OF praise.
Can Bt0ried urn or animated bust
Back TO its mansion call the neeting broath2
Can lIonor's voice provoke tho silent dust,
Or fattery Boothe the dun cold ear OF Death2
Perhaps In this neglected spot is laid
Some heart onoo pregnant with celestial nre:
Honds, that the rod Of empire might have sway'd,
Or wak'd 10 ecstacy tho living lyro.
But knowledge - their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the Bpoils OF time, did ne'er unrOl;
Chin Ponury repressd their noble rage,
And frozo the genial current Of the soul.
Full many germ Of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
Fun many flower Is born TO blush unseen,
And waste It's sweetness on the desert air.
Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant Of his 1eds wthstood;
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell guIltlo3s Of his country's blood
tn applause Of listening senates to command
The threats OF pain and ruin 10 despise,
| To scatter plenty DER asniIIng land
And read their history In a nations eyes.
Their lot forbad nor circumscrIb alone
| Their growing virtues but their crimes oonGn'di
Forbad TO wade through slaughter TO throne
And shut the gates Of mercy on mankdd.
The struggling pangs OF conscious truth TO hide
| To quench the bushos Of ingenious shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and pride
With incense kindled at the MUSES. flame.
Far from the madding crowds lgnoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learnd 10 stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale OF life
| They kept the nolseless tenor OF their way.
Yet ey'n these bones from insult TO protect,
Some frall memorial stlll erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture
| deck'd,
lmplores the passing tribute Of sigh.
Their names, their years, spelt by tn unletter't
| Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply;
And many holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb Forgetfulness prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts Of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behlnd2
On some fond breast the parting soul relies
Some pouB drops the closing eye requires;
EY'n from the tomb the voice Of Nature cries,
Ev'n In our ashes live their wontcd fires.
For thee, who, mindful Of tn unhonord dead,
Dost in these lines their artle8s tale relate;
If chance, by lonely Contemplation ed,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
HAPPY some hoary-headed swain may say,
soft have we seen him at the peep OF dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away