The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1910-06-29
OLD POEM FOUND.
Verses Attributed BY Washington
Editor To StOncwall jackson.
Baltimore Sum-

the Ottoman Mergenthaler Company,
while looking over a collection Of rel
les gathered many years ago by his
father, the late Abner Greenleaf,
found in an old book a beautiful
poem attributed to Stonewall Jackson.
the title of which is ITO My Depart
ed Father"
The poem appears in one of the
Washington papers about February
4, 1886. Mr.. Greenleafs father was
born in New Hampshire, and at one
time defeated Daniel Webster for the
State Senate in close and hard cam
paign. He spent the greater part Of
his life in Washington. He died in
this city.
The poem and the criticism Of the
editor Of the paper in which 1t ap-
peared follow:
To My Departed Father.
The following beautiful verses were
written by the celebrated "Stonewall"
Jackson. They breathe the very es-
sence Of poetry. No person Of taste
can read them without being moved
by the genuine filial affection, so ten
derly expressed by the highly gifted
author, while the heart Is touched with
sympathy by the mournful strain. The
smooth diction and the charming mel
ody of the stanzas fall like melting
music on the ear, while the magma
tion Is stirred by the striking and i'm
pressive imagery Of the poem, the
| commencement Of which Is so wierd-
like that it fills the mind with awe
and admiration. How truthful and
striking are the two last lines Of the
second stanza! Mark how tenderly
the poet refers to his bereaved moth
err:
Torn like the vine whose tendrils
curled
More closely round the falling tree.
There Is not In the whole range of
| poetical literature a more beautiful
couplet than this. How sublime are
the closing lines! Had the great war
rior written but this poem alone It
would have stamped him as a gen.
iuine poet, and proved to the world
that men Of the finest sensibilties are
capable Of great personal bravery,
and can WELD sublimer influence on
the battle field than those who are
prompted to action by mere animal
courage.
AS die the embers on the hearth
And DER the floor the shadows
fall,
And creeps the chirping cricke,
forth,
And ticks the death watch on the
wall,
/ see a form in yonder chair,
That grows beneath the waning
light,
There are the wan, sad features
there
The pallied brow. and locks of
white.
My father! when they laid thee
down
And heap'd the clay upon thy
breast,
And left thee sleeping all alone,
Upon thy narrow couch Of rest;
L know not why I could not weep,
The soothing drops refused to
roll,
And oh! that grief Is wild and deep
Which settles fearless on the soul.
But when 1 saw thy vacant chair,
Thine idle hat upon the wall,
The book-the pencird passage
where
Thine eye had rest, 1 last of all;
The tree beneath w..ose friendly
shade
Thy trembling feet had wander'd
forth.
The very prints those feet had made
When last they feebly trod the
edrtn.
l thought while countless ages fled
Thy vacant chair would vacant
stand,
Unworn thy hat, thy book unread,
Enaced thy footsteps from the
sand;
And widow'd in this cherries world
The heart that gave its love to
thee,
Torn like the vine whose tendrils
curled
More closely round the falling
tree.
. father, then for her and thee.
Gush'd madly forth the scalding
tears.