 | Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems |  |
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II.
A Golden Wedding.
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THE ROLLING FORK.
I.
On the Rolling Fork in Hardin,Where the winds and waters chime,
And sing to the listening traveler
Songs full of the olden time,
Stood a dwelling thrown wide open
To the wanton airs of May,
That stole up over sloping meadows
Which stretched from its doors away—
Here dotted with groves, there reaching
To sunny and shady nooks,
Where the elder-bloom sway'd gently
To the ripple of purling brooks,
And where the voices of children
From blossoming thickets rang,
As, with jest, and shout, and banter,
From rock to rock they sprang.
II.
'T was the home of an aged couple,Who many and many a year
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The fruits of life's labors here.
And now there had gladly gather'd,
From near and from far away,
A merry troop of their kindred,
And friends of an early day:
For this was their “Golden Wedding;”
And the heavens stoop'd down and smiled
As sweetly and tenderly o'er them,
As a mother o'er her child.
Songs of birds, and the breath of flowers,
Floated in on the sunny air;
And God's benison seem'd resting
All round them, everywhere.
III.
As friend met friend with greetings,How rapidly backward flew
The curtains of time, displaying
The scenes of the past anew!
And soon they were where Lake Erie
Heaved its billows like the sea,
And then by the moaning waters
Of the battle-stain'd Maumee;
And anon where the bright Scioto
Day's arrowy beams flash'd back,
As it water'd the Indian gardens
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Then they saw the blood of their kindred
Tinge the Wabash and the Thames,
And anon heard the streams of Kentucky
Murmuring their honor'd names.
IV.
And as the lengthening shadowsOf the years still upward roll'd,
And they talk'd of the days of their danger,
And the tales of their triumphs told,
Tears gather'd in silent sorrow
For some who had found their rest
Ere blazed in its fullness the glory
That dawn'd on the Early West.
But they all felt proud of the heroes
Who had sprung at their country's call,
For its flag, which they carried, to battle,
For their homes, if 't were needed, to fall.
And the tears which had started in sorrow,
And silence, were check'd by their pride,
And they still talk'd old times with the bridegroom,
And recall'd still old sports to the bride.
V.
And while far behind on life's highwaysTheir thoughts were thus tenderly cast,
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This page from the Book of the Past—
One who, in the strength of his manhood,
Had moved oft in the scenes now brought back,
And remember'd the Woman's devotion
All along the Man's perilous track:—
THE MOTHERS OF THE WEST.
1.
The mothers of our Forest-Land!Stout-hearted dames were they;
With nerve to wield the battle-brand,
And join the border fray.
Our rough land had no braver
In its days of blood and strife—
Aye ready for severest toil,
Aye free to peril life.
2.
The mothers of our Forest-Land!On old Kentucky's soil,
How shared they, with each dauntless band,
War's tempest, and life's toil!
They shrank not from the foeman,
They quail'd not in the fight,
But cheer'd their husbands through the day,
And sooth'd them through the night.
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3.
The mothers of our Forest-Land!Their bosoms pillow'd MEN;
And proud were they by such to stand
In hammock, fort, or glen;
To load the sure old rifle—
To run the leaden ball—
To watch a battling husband's place,
And fill it should he fall.
4.
The mothers of our Forest-Land!Such were their daily deeds:
Their monument—where does it stand?
Their epitaph—who reads?
No braver dames had Sparta—
No nobler matrons Rome—
Yet who or lauds or honors them,
Ev'n in their own green home?
5.
The mothers of our Forest-Land!They sleep in unknown graves;
And had they borne and nursed a band
Of ingrates, or of slaves,
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But their graves shall yet be found,
And their monuments dot here and there
“The Dark and Bloody Ground!”
VI.
The plaudits that rose from the many,And the chatter that fell from the few,
Were silenced ere long by a trumpet,
Which peal'd out the “Red, White and Blue;”
And then, oft with tremulous cadence,
And tones that made holy the air,
From the hall came this song of a sorrow
Among the Green Hills of Adair—
The violin measuring fitly
The depth of the feeling express'd,
And the method and voice of the singer
Soon winning the heart of each guest:—
AMONG THE GREEN HILLS OF ADAIR.
1.
How oft in the spirit we yearnFor faces and forms that have fled!
While the calm lights of memory burn,
How oft from the living we turn
To the dead!
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O'er a quiet and shadowy track,
Till they rest by a murmuring stream,
Where in years gone I dream'd a sweet dream,
Among the green hills of Adair—
The beautiful hills of Adair.
2.
And a maiden, as sweet as the flowersThat bloom'd by that murmuring stream,
Walk'd beside me among the wild bowers,
Through the months, and the days, and the hours,
Of that dream.
But a messenger cruel as Death
Broke in on that dream, and her breath
Pass'd away with a prayer and a sigh,
As that murmuring stream glided by,
Among the green hills of Adair—
The beautiful hills of Adair.
3.
But I wander there yet, and I hearThe tones of that murmuring stream;
And the form and the face that were dear,
In the beauty of youth re-appear;
And I dream—
Oh, I dream of a Land and a Life,
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Wherein, not again to be cross'd,
I shall find the sweet spirit I lost
Among the green hills of Adair—
The beautiful hills of Adair.
VII.
The refrain had scarce died to a murmur,When a woman well stricken in years,
Sang the song of Lynn's Station on Beargrass,
In tones that brought many to tears:—
LYNN'S STATION ON BEARGRASS.
I.
As the clouds and the shadows are lifted,And roll from my vision away,
Lynn's Station appears on the Beargrass,
With the green groves around it that lay;
And I see gallant forms and sweet faces,
Such as brightened a day that is o'er,
And my ear catches faint and far echoes
Of voices I'll hear never-more—
Never-more—never-more—
Loved voices I'll hear again never,
Never-more.
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2.
Now my mind and my heart, in their fullness,Wander back to the days that have been,
And my breast swells and throbs with emotion,
Over memories of girlhood and Lynn.
Although dangers there threaten'd us often,
Man's strong arm was a shield and a spear;
And woman's true heart made it stronger,
As she bravely sang out, “Never fear!—
Never fear!—never fear!
Though the strong win not always the battle,
Never fear!”
3.
And now I behold Nannie Allen,Who was kill'd in her maidenly bloom,
And her gallant young lover, John Martin,
Who in tears and alone dug her tomb.
On a green grassy knoll, by the river,
O'erlooking the Falls far below,
In the flush and the flower of her beauty,
We laid her to rest long ago—
Long ago—long ago—
And the winds and the waves sang her requiem,
Long ago.
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VIII.
The tones of the violin lingered,As if they were part of the air,
Impregning the place with the holy
And beautiful spirit of prayer:
Ere long, though, the murmur was broken
By a resonant clarion blast,
And before the enraptured assembly
The host and the hostess pass'd.
On their taking position together,
The clarion ended its play—
And he sang then this song of their Love-Life
In Kentucky's old Pioneer-Day:—
LOVE-LIFE ON THE ELKHORN.
1.
We met first 'mid the horrors of battle,While rang the red savage's yell,
Where some of our boldest and bravest
By rifle and tomahawk fell.
She stood by the door of a cabin,
Unshrinking, determined and grand,
From a loophole surveying the struggle,
An axe duly poised in her hand.
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2.
I bridled a steed that was halter'dIn a shed that stood haply behind,
And pointing the way that was safest,
She mounted and rode like the wind.
With night the fierce battle was over,
And we cared for our wounded and slain,
Yet till peace spread its wings o'er Kentucky
In beauty, we met not again.
3.
But peace brought the triumphs of labor,And scattered the shadows of gloom,
And the green fertile shores of the Elkhorn
Soon revel'd in beauty and bloom.
And then, as if heaven-directed,
We met where that cabin once stood,
And walk'd hand-in-hand where our heroes
Had gone down in battle and blood.
4.
And we met there again, and there plightedOur faith to each other for life;
And never on earth yet has Heaven
Dealt kindlier with husband and wife.
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Go back where that cabin once stood,
And thank God that soon out of the evil
We witness'd and shared, came the good.
IX.
At the close came kind words and good wishesFrom all, that were fervent and true;
And the drum and the fife and the trumpet
Pealed out again, “Red, White, and Blue!”
Then came, floating in from the porches,
A smother'd and twittering hum,
And the young clapp'd their hands as they shouted—
“The Pioneer Legion has come!”
And a dozen in buckskin-breeches,
By hunting-shirts overhung,
Walk'd in under caps of 'coonskin,
And saluted both old and young;
And they beat then the stately marches
Of time, on the notes of the years,
As they sang, to a fitting melody,
The Song of the Pioneers:—
THE SONG OF THE PIONEERS.
1.
A song for the Early Times Out West,And our green old forest-home,
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Across the bosom come:
A song for the free and gladsome life
In those early days we led,
With a teeming soil beneath our feet,
And a smiling Heav'n o'erhead!
Oh, the waves of life danced merrily,
And had a joyous flow,
In the days when we were Pioneers,
Fifty years ago!
2.
The hunt, the shot, the glorious chase,The captured elk, or deer;
The camp, the big bright fire, and then
The rich and wholesome cheer:—
The sweet sound sleep at dead of night,
By our camp-fires blazing high—
Unbroken by the wolf's long howl,
And the panther springing by.
Oh, merrily pass'd the time, despite
Our wily Indian foe,
In the days when we were Pioneers,
Fifty years ago!
3.
We shunn'd not labor: when 't was dueWe wrought with right good will;
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Our children bless us still.
We lived not hermit lives, but oft
In social converse met;
And fires of love were kindled then,
That burn on warmly yet.
Oh, pleasantly the stream of life
Pursued its constant flow,
In the days when we were Pioneers,
Fifty years ago.
4.
We felt that we were fellow men;We felt we were a band,
Sustain'd here in the wilderness
By Heaven's upholding hand.
And when the solemn Sabbath came,
Assembling in the wood,
We lifted up our hearts in prayer
To God the only Good.
Our temples then were earth and sky;
None others did we know,
In the days when we were Pioneers,
Fifty years ago!
5.
Our forest-life was rough and rude,And dangers closed us round;
But here, amid the green old trees,
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Oft through our dwellings wintry blasts
Would rush, with shriek and moan;
We cared not—though they were but frail,
We felt they were our own!
Oh, free and manly lives we led,
Mid verdure, or mid snow,
In the days when we were Pioneers,
Fifty years ago!
6.
But now our course of life is short;And as, from day to day,
We're walking on with weakening step,
And halting by the way,
Another Land more bright than this,
To our dim sight appears,
And on our way to it we all
Are moving with the years.
Yet while we linger, we may still
Our backward glances throw,
To the days when we were Pioneers,
Fifty years ago!
X.
The Wedding-Feast followed.—...... When evening
Had quietly yielded to night,
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Every tree with its lantern a-light.
And soon from a garlanded terrace,
The viol and trump made their din,
Giving place, as the company gather'd,
To the notes of the gay violin.
Then the Country-Dance answered with spirit
To old Rosin's familiar appeal,
And Cotillions glode on, through the Gallop
And Waltz, to Virginia's old Reel.
And the Past and the Present there mingled,
As the old and the young thus met,
That day throughout life to remember,
And that night never, never forget.
XI.
Thus ended that Golden Wedding,An hour ere the dawn of day,
On the Rolling Fork of Hardin,
In the flowery month of May;
And before the bright sun had risen
All the guests their couches press'd,
By the murmur of winds and waters
Gently wooed, and lull'd to rest—
All but one, whom the chains of memory
Held so firm in their thraldom still,
That a link ev'n had not been broken
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And from him, as the host and hostess
At length their chamber sought,
A low and tremulous murmur
Their ears for a moment caught;
And soon, as they paused to listen,
They heard, low-toned but free,
This song of an old log-cabin
On the Banks of the Tennessee:—
ON THE BANKS OF THE TENNESSEE.
1.
I sit by the open windowAnd look to the hills away,
Over beautiful undulations
That glow with the flowers of May—
And as the lights and the shadows
With the passing moments change,
Comes many a scene of beauty
Within my vision's range—
But there is not one among them
That is half so dear to me,
As an old log-cabin I think of
On the banks of the Tennessee.
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2.
Now up from the rolling meadows,And down from the hill-tops now,
Fresh breezes steal in at my window,
And sweetly fan my brow—
And the sounds that they gather and bring me,
From rivulet, and meadow, and hill,
Come in with a touching cadence,
And my throbbing bosom fill—
But the dearest thoughts thus waken'd,
And in tears brought back to me,
Cluster round that old log-cabin
On the banks of the Tennessee.
3.
To many a fond remembranceMy thoughts are backward cast,
As I sit by the open window
And recall the faded past—
For all along the windings
Of the ever-moving years,
Lie wrecks of hope and of purpose
That I now behold through tears—
And of all of them, the saddest
That is thus brought back to me,
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On the banks of the Tennessee.
[4.]
Glad voices now greet me daily,Sweet faces I oft behold,
Yet I sit by the open window,
And dream of the times of old—
Of a voice that on earth is silent,
Of a face that is seen no more,
Of a spirit that falter'd not ever
In the struggle of days now o'er—
And a beautiful grave comes pictured
Forever and ever to me,
From a knoll near that old log-cabin
On the banks of the Tennessee.
| Miami Woods : a golden wedding and other poems | |