Part 17

O martyr, prostrate, calm! I learn anew that pain Achieves, as God's subduing psalm, What else were all in vain.

Like Samson in his death With mightiest labor rife, The moments of thy halting breath Were grandest of thy life.

And now amid the gloom Which pierces mortal years, There shines a star above thy tomb To smile away our tears.

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XI.

WHAT I CARRIED TO COLLEGE.

A REMINISCENCE AT FORTY--PICTURES OF RURAL LIFE.

Nobody has brought me a kiss to-day, As forty comes marching along life's way;

At least, only such as came in a letter,-- And two hundred leagues from home, the debtor!

So out of my life I will dig a treasure, And feast on a reminiscent pleasure.

Our old New England folks, you know, Little favor to kissing were wont to show.

It smacked, they thought, too much of Satan, Whose hook often has a pleasant bate on.

And even as token of purity's passion, Sometimes, I think, it was out of fashion.

So at least in the home my boyhood knew, And of other homes, no doubt, it was true.

My grandsire and grandma, of the olden school, Were strict observers of the proper rule.

And from New-Year on to the end of December, A kiss is something I do not remember.

It seemed, I suppose, an abomination, Somewhat like a Christmas celebration,

Or a twelfth-day pudding in English style, Whose plums are sweet as a maiden's smile.

Hush! fountains New England fathers quaffed at Were surely something not to be laughed at.

They drank, the heavens above and under, Eternity's abiding wonder.

And here, I confess, in the joy of the present, The thought of those days is sacredly pleasant.

Grandma, with the cares of the household on her, In the morning smoked in the chimney corner.

She hung the tea-kettle filled with water While still asleep was her youngest daughter.

Ah! there were reasons, good and plenty, Why she should indulge that baby of twenty.

The rest were all courted and married and flown, And that little birdie was left alone.

Grandmother, when she had finished her smoking, Bustled about--she never went poking--

And fried the pork, and made the tea, And pricked the potatoes, if done to see;

While grandsire finished his chapter of snores, And uncle and I were doing the chores.