Bryan daily eagle and pilot. [volume] (Bryan, Tex.) 1909-1918, 1912-02-06
The Old Wash Place

l
her memory, smile
AT the very youngness of her; lust ,
little girl, she seems,
smiling at me from the distance, sing
ing to me in my dreams
Luilabyes we all remember; but
mostly see her face
Smiling through the clouds of steam
that almost hide the old wash
place.
Sometimes in my dreams a dogwood
blossom glimmers in her hair.
And hear redbird whistle, and the
dream Is free from care
Then man comes in the picture like
dream, and goes away,
Waving to the little mother from the
ranks of men in gray;
And from then the dogwood blossoms
never glimmer any more,
And the redbird sings no longer round
the wash place as of yore.
Three OF us-and just the little bit o.
mother to the brood!
Singing while her heart was breaking,
in the woodland solitude
With the homely tubs and kettle and
the soap gourd and the stick
The old battling stick! the mem'ry
catches at my throat SO quick
That scarce can choke the sob back,
at the picture of the face
Smiling bravely from the distance
through the steam Of the wash
place.
Yes, carried water for her, while the
baby went to sleep
With the songs that sister sung her
where the wash lay in heap,
And sought dry sticks and piled them
meath the kettle-all my joy
In the dreams that come back to me
is that was born a boy,
And could help the little mother, and
was glad to help her, too,
In the tasks about the wash place
where there was so much to do
Can wee babies understand it-when
hearts about to break?
We were babies but we seemed to
know, somehow, for mothers sake
We must help to bear a burden which
we could not comprehend,
And our puny arms about her seemed
to strengthen and to lend
Her a strength no little bit O. mother
could have got elsewhere,
AS she toiled about the wash place
with her heart bowed down with
care.
Some days tasks seemed overdreary,
and the hours seemed overlong-
But she'd catch our eyes fixed on her
and would tremble into song,
But the world of heartbreak throbbing !,
through the counterfeited joy
Somehow would play on the heart
strings of the little girl and boy
And the little baby sister, and we'd |
snuggle face to face,
Heart to heart, her arms about us. |
kneeling at the old wash place.
Then one morning came a message
came in with the mornings
gleam-
How it came is lost or hidden in the
shadows of the dream,
But with it hope went out from her,
and she seemed to bark no more
For voice across the distance, for a
footstep at the door;
And she kneeled there In the wash
place, kneeled with sister girl
and me,
And know now that that moment was
her souls Gethsemane!
Then the washings came more often,
there were other heaps Of clothes,
Day by day the clouds of sudsy steam
from the old kettle rose,
Day by day her love grew stronger, in
the worry and the smart
u her heartache she would rush to l
and would clasp us to her heart,
md she'd strive to coax her lips to
curve into snatch of song
tut the wash place called and called
her, and its tasks were hard and l
long.
lot long since / heard a woman say
in sneering tones and low:
HUH his mother did our washing, for
my mother told me SOL"
1hiter than the dogwood blossom
sweeter than it e'er could be
hone the truth OF that vie whisper,
for she did it all for me,
nd for sister-girl and baby! Oh, the l
whisper-it was base!
ut soul was born in heaven from
that lowly old wash place. :,
Thy, it doesn't seem that mother was
quite grown up when she died! II
UGH a little bit O. mother! Oh, the
years are long and wide
nee she went away and left us, with
the old smile on her face,
eaving us but just the mem'ry of the Is
homely old wash place;
know father beckoned to her-by the
look that overcast
er sweet face-but we still miss her,
shall as long as life shall last. l.
j. NJ Lewis in Houston Post.
10
Memorial to Boer Women.
johannesburg, South Africa, Feb. G.
Imposing ceremonies marked the
ling of the cornerstone today of the