The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-06-22
She Was the Widow of willard
Nichols, at One Time Connected
with the Journal.
WROTE AT AN ADVANCED AGE
HER MIND WAS ACTIVE AND FRUIT
FUL TO THE LAST.
ssThe Bonnie Brown Bird in the Null
berry Treeo Her Best-known
Poem-Life Sketch.


prominent pioneer settlers yesterday morn
ing when Mrs. Rebecca s. Nichols. widow
of the late Willard Nichols, died at the
home of her SON, w. c. Nichols, deputy
United States clerk, in the Knickerbocker.
on East New York street Mrs. Nichols
was one of Indiana's earlier literary lights
Mrs. Nichols wrote a number Of poems for
current magazines, and in 1910 published
two books of poems at Cincinnati.
Mrs Rebecca Nichols was born october
%, 1919, at Greenwich, N. j., and married
Willard Nichols in 1888. They came to In
diana in 1858 and settled in this city. Mr..
Nichols was a printer by trade, and in
the early part OF 1870 was news editor on
the Journal He was man who was wide
ly known and well liked, being of a happy
disposition, which won him many friends.
He died seven years ago at the age Of
eighty-three. Before coming to Indiana
with her father. DR.. K. B. Reed, Mrs.
Nichols resided for a short time in Louis
VILE and Philadelphia.
Her greatest period of literary activity
was during the period that ended with 1866.
She did not write a great deal after that.
All of her poems were of a high order Of
ty Mrs. Nichols lived a most active life,
and up TO three years ago was in excellent
health. At that time she took a trip to
Chicago, which she enjoyed very much. OF
late months she failed perceptibly, although
her mind still retained its active and acute
qualities.
Two children survive W. c.. Nichols and
Mrs. Isabel Adams, both of this city The
funeral will be held this afternoon from the
III mill hn r1ri tQI
will be at Crown Hill and will also be
private. AS an example of the strength of
Mrs. Nicholas mind, the following poem
was written at the age of eighty-three:
Good Night.
Good night, This simple. kindly phrase
Recalls the charm Of earlier days.
When, seeking for the isles OF rest,
With tired brain and aching breast.
sweet slumDer came. oblyion's mate.
That led unto the land Of dreams.
Whose sunlit cliffs and singing streams
Wooed to gardens OF delight
To which, long since, 1 said good night
ITO many hearts that loved me we'll.
That early in life's warfare fell,
To others, whe could see no grace
To broke broken friendships.ioves estransed-
And frazier ties by talsehood changed;
To high emprise. and dreams Of fame.
Till learning IL but
Writ lightly on Times shifting sands.
Or like the desert-mirage shone
Its stated moment-and was gonei
To these. in years of noiseless flight,
i sadly. gladly said good night
1.-The night is past-the stars have gone
The soft. gray vesture Of the dawn
Creeps slowly up the mountains way
The silent pledge of coming day.
AS lifes frail barriers disappear.
And shades OF death are stealing near.
Be Thou. dear Lord, the guiding light,
And teach these lips their last good night.
Her most famous poem is the following:
"The Bonnie Brown Bird in the Null
berry Tree"
I'm a green meadow, laced by a silvery stream.
Where the lilies all day seem to float in a
On the soft gurglins waves. in their bright peb-
bled bed,
Where the emeral turf sprans up light from the
In the DAYS that have vanished forever for me,
There grew in its prime red mulberry tree.
How stalwart its form. what wealth of green
leaves!
Where the sunlight came sitting. like rain.
through the caves.
With a right royal canopy stretched overhead,
Enticing the birds. and enticing to me.
As / swung through the air, meath the mul-
berry tree.
Twas cunningly fastened, that swing. on a
bough.
And the rich freishted branches brushed lightly
As up / rose higher than others might dare,
And tasted the joys of the birds in the air;
While one little warbler with throat full OF glee
Built its nest every spring in the mulberry tree
"oh. sunshine that mOcketh. whose light is SC
Where, where. is the glory that crowned you
Of old?
Where hides the soft splendor that brightens
And dazzled the child in those spell-woven days
Where sings the sweet bird that once sang unto
From its zephyr-rocked nest in the mulberry
tree?
Away with this thought-iet me dream like a
child:
Let bound Ger the meadow. with hair
streaming wild.
Once more in the swing. and with nothing tc
The sun shining brightly. the heav'ns beamine
And. harkl tits the strain OF a lost melody
From From the bonnie brown bird in the mulberr,
tree.
Sing on. Is IL true I e'er wandered from this
That I've drunk Of each sorrow-have tasted
That the world, with its lures. with its lies and
its art
Has rolled cold stone Ger the tomb OF tn,
Is IL true. laughing meadow-oh, verdurous sea
That child swings no more meath the null
berry tree?
Sing on, How II steals Ger each chord
through each VEIN
And filis every sense with an exquisite pain:
Now whispering with memory. now murm rims
Now lifting the soul to the star realms above
Thus Hope, in the heart. sang once sweetly t.
As the bonnie brown bird in the mulberry tree
Sing on. gentle minstrel as upward I sprins
Through the element rare, in the rapturou.
swingi
All. YES. those are tones one familiar IN years
Ere the bolt was shot back from the gateway OF
tears.
How long. oh. how long. wilt thou sing thu,
10
Thou bonnie brown bird in the mulberry tree?
s'TJow ionv7 II has ceased. ths hoarsa 5r,,vv
and the throng
Have broken the thread OF its heaven -taugh
song.
The meadow has faded-the lilies have died
The stream in its bed has been shrunken ant
dried
And child ever swings there in innocent glee
Or hears the brown bird In the mulberry tree
AN OLD, OLD STORY.