The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1908-12-26
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: The CLEARING.
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backward gazing through the shadows
AS the evening fades away,
Il perceive the little footprints
Where the morning sunlight lay,
Warm and mellow, on the pathway
Leading TO the open door
or the cabin in the clearing,
Where my soul reciines once more.
o, mat cabin in the clearing,
Where my Mary came bride,
Where our children grew to love us,
Where our little Robbie died.
Still in'.memory blooms the red bud
BY the doorway, and the breeze
Tingles with the spicewood's oder,
And the catbird's melodies.
And ] mind the floor of puncheons,
Rudeiy laid on joist and sill,
And the fireplace shaped and beaten
From the red clay on the hill;
With the chimney standing outside.
Like the blind man asking aims,
Wrought of sticks and clay and fash
ionsd -
BY the builders ready palms.
Half way up the fiue wide-t hroated,
Does the hickory cross-tree rest,
Whence depend the pot and kettle
Where the great fire biazes best.
D. smell the sayory yen'scn
Hear the hominy simmer. low,
As my Mary stirs the embers
That were ashes long ago.
Once again ] hurry homeward.
When the day of toll is DER,
And my heart leaps up in gladness,
: For in this wide open door.
Mary in her home-spun habit,
With her hands above her eyes,
Gazes all around the clearing
Till my coming form she spies.
Ills for her ] am a hunter.
And the fleet deer's Sudden bound
Tells how swift and sure my aim is,
Ere his life-tide dyes the ground:
lis for her / am an angler.
AS the spotted. beauties WOO,
From their paradise of waters,
Ere the sun has dried the dew.
And the wild rose and bluebell
That / pluck with gentle care.
Are for her who rules the cabin
Mary. of the raven hair; =
lis for her | smite the forest,
LAY w udN. VIII lily K1dU 1iONS-
IT'S for her the cornstalk tassels,
And the golden pumpkin grows
Often, winding through the Woodlands,
Neighbors come with song and
shout,
Eager for a day of pleasure
Where the latch-string hangSth out,
And with ready hands assist us
At our labors, with the zest
or our conversation heightens.
Till the sun goes down the west.
Aye. and once again / see them
On a sad, sweet summer day,
When the robin on the maple,
Seems to sing his soul away:
And the clearing swims around me,
In tangled dream of woe,
And my weeping Mary whispers:
tell ME why he had to go?'
why he had to go." Oh. heaven.
did God want our little boy?'
'Tis the old, unanswered question.
Cankering in the heart of joy.
And subduing many a pleasure,
As l see those friends OF old,
Hiding tenderly our darling.
In the forests virgin mold.
Now. tdat cabin in the clearing
Is but dust. blown-here and there,
Where the palpitating engines
Breathe their darkness on the air
Where my forests lowered in beauty,
Now a smoky village stands,
And the rows of factories cluster
Grimly on my virgin lands
Scarcely room enough is left me
For this double. clustering rose,
Where the baby and its mother
Side by side in earth repose,
Soon the last fond trace viii vanish
Which proclaims that they have
been;
But no matter-Heayens gateway
Opened wide to let them in.
Yet with Mary Oft / linger,
Where the well-sweep slanteth low,
Planning over all our labors.
When TO plant and what to SOW;
How to ride to Sunday meeting
Fixing on a proper day
For the rolling and the quilting.
And the young folks evening play.
: Eighty and a memory only,"
Is that what YOU speak of me? !.
Wen, the memory is a blessing,
And its picture fair to sec;
While the fairest and the sweetest
Lingers with me ever more
lis the>cabin in the clearing.
And my Mary at the door
BENZ. s. PARKER