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An' Benjamin, he cum hum at last, but it made my old
eyes ache To see him lay with thet patient look, when it seemed
thet his heart would break With his pain an' wounds; but he lingered on till the
flowers died away, An' then we laid him down to rest, in the calm of the
Will I sell the old farm, stranger, the house where my
boys were born? Jes' look down thro' the orchard, Squar, beyond that
field ocornKen ye see them four white marble stuns gleam out thro'
the orchard glade ? Wall, all thet is left of our boys on arth rests under them
old trees' shade.
But there cums John with the cows, ye see, an' it's 'bout
my milkin’-time; If ye happen along this way agin, jes' stop in at eny
time. Oh! ye axed if I'd eny notion the old farm would ever
be sold: Wall! may be, Squar, but I'll tell ye plain, 't will be when the old man's cold.
A. ALPHONSE DAYTON.
MY EARLY HOME.
TOVE, Peace, and Repose ! the tenderest trio
Dear home of my childhood in years that are gone.
There, father and mother, two sisters, one brother,
With hopes, like their hearts, united, abide,
A heritage holy and glory beside.
Away to the wheat-field, just over the hill;
To gather the waiting grain, golden and still.
Many harvests have passed, many summers have ended.
Since here I oft toiled, with glad reapers, before, And felt the great bounty of Heaven extended,
Giving joy to the worker and bread to the poor.
Long ago, I remember, when thirsty and tiring,
The harvesters came to the old maple shade, How they quaffed the pure water, so cool and inspiring,
That gushed from the fountain that Nature had made.
And I think of the orchard, and the apples that yellowed,
Half hidden by leaves in the "big early tree;" Ah, the apples, how luscious, when ripened and mellowed,
Then dropped in the clover for sisters and me! Old home of my youth, so humble, so cherished,
Thy hallowed memory cheers me to-day; When all other thoughts of the past shall have perished,
Remembrance of thee shall illumine my way. Sweet home in Ohio, now farewell forever!
I've wandered afar from thy dear cottage door: l'll visit thee, love thee; but never, oh, never, Will thy charms, or my childhood, return any more.
Ha! rebel, now!
With quivering brow
Their quivering breath. “Ha! doth he blanch ?” fierce Gesler cried, “I've conquered, slave, thy soul of pride.” No voice to that stern taunt replied
All mute as death. “ And what the meed ?” at length Tell asked. “Bold fool, when slaves like thee are tasked,
It is my will.
What! pause you still?
Unmoved, yet flushed,
The quiver searched, Sought out an arrow keen and long, Fit for a sinewy arm, and strong,
And placed it on the sounding thong
The tough yew arched.
No step, no word, no breath.
And scarcely stirred.
But never moved.
The boy he loved. The Switzer gazed—the arrow hung, “My only boy!” sobbed on his tongue;
He could not shoot.. “Ha!" cried the tyrant,“ doth he quail ? Mark how his haughty brow grows pale!" But a deep voice rung on the gale
“Shoot, in God's name !" Again the drooping shaft he took, And turned to Heaven one burning look,
Of all doubts reft.
Ha! ha! 'tis cleft!
With rosy cheek.
What means it? Speak!”
Had touched my boy.”
And Lucerne's lake
Her fetters brake.
With wakening swell,
Of William Tell.
“DAX VOBISCUM!” Peace be with ye! Hark
1 the Independence bells ! On the breeze of summer morning how their joyous
clamor swells !