Goldsboro weekly argus. [volume] (Goldsboro, N.C.) 1885-1909, 1903-03-12

81 sometimes think that never blows
so red
The rose as where some buried Cesar
bled;
That every hyacinth the garden
wears
Dropped il her lap from some once
lovely head"
OMAR KHAYYAM.
Back almost a thousand years in
the turning of Times book, n page
was written by a Persian, q poet and
a philosopher, whose soul teemed
with rare melodies. Leaving his
faint print upon these sands of the
ocean of eternity he wandered into
the unknown, and was o % forgot
ten. But no flower blooms in vain
in this world, though its mission be
yer 81 long delayed, and the seed of
the song ofOmar Khayyam, warmed
by an English sun little more than
half 9 century ago, has blossomed
again into fairness and sweetness in
the "Rubaivat" for the delight of
those who read.
A flower shall bIoom-if already it
hasnota oaeso-f for each warm dropof
crimson dew which fell upon the field
Of death, 1t may be q flower OF nee
dom il sonra far away Iaad, OF d
bloom of4iaurtF elsewhere, or q bud
Of prosperity FL yet another place
but somewhere there has been, OF fs,
or will b2 waited the Iragranceo of the
blood shed for principle. whether IL
battle OF ii heart ,nro0s Of silent
anguish distilled into tears, trans
formed into beauty. So it IS with
all the battles of earth, so with all
the battles # life. On that spot
where we held out for what seemed
right and good, and where at last we
bled, even to the death, shall spring
a flower of memory whose rare per-
fune may avive many a dropping
head, many a heavy heart. There
are no flowers of character like to
those which force their way through
strife and Observation-Disclosures Of
the spirI-ro the peace OF that higher
and clearer realm e spirituality.
And what beautiful significance
this gIvas h. The HoI05-shose That
grow in ahe ze-aa.s u Garth. aud IS
pecially nose 5hae blocm where our
dear dead lie buried III the dooryard
Of heaven: TO feel that they are not
mere expressions OF beauty, poems
in form ANA color and living remind
ecs Of orarely and courage and sacri-
fee, but something ZnoTe-the sweet
tangible expression q "a viewless
spirit" Consider the lilies of the
field for more taan their raiment.
From dull brown bulbs they come.
up out OF tho dull brown earth. The.
shell is left below, and only the
bright green pushes through the soil.
Then is the stem strengthened by
the sun and he wind, and fed by the
weeping u the skies, and one day q
green bud appears on It! The flower
bursts into sweetness and beauty, and
IN its purity we see the soul of one
long lost. In many a rim of petaIled
the face We once loved lives.
Another poet has sung
s'Full many a flower is born to blush
unseen
And waste its sweetness on the des-
ert air'':
but this is not true; for the bees and
the breezes find it and it sends them
away ladened with sweetness and
with perfume for the comfort and the
delight of men.
Through dull work and dull cares
we grow. The winds and the heat
should only make US strong. Re
member, therefore, that it is even
worth while to bloom in a desert.
If we but knew the secret of that
power
That opes the bud in early days of
Spring,
If webut knew Whatmakes the robin
sing
His wondrous song just at the matin
hour,
If we but knew the priceless boon
and dover
Of human life, when man is truly
If we but understood the little
thing
ueNes lis lust at the present