Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 February 1890 — IMPATIENCE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

IMPATIENCE.

BY OZIAS MIDSUMMER.

NO I. •I’ve left the bright, bright valley where flowers are blooming, No flowers are here but the thistle and thorn, My days are as darkness and cyclones and tempests, I wish I was dead or had never been born.” While thus tang a lady when nearing the shadows Which fall after twilight in life’s rugged way, A voice at her elbow reminded her gently, “ ’Tis true as a prophet: Each dog has its day.” For there by her side on a rustic seat sitting Her lover of vouth had returned bronzed and old, His form yet erect, his mustache yet a beauty. His pockets well filled vith bright silver arid gold. They sat in the garden that bright balmy morning. Beneath the buds, blossoms, and leaves of a tree; With sweet gentle zephyrs of spring for their breathing. Much happier far than young lovers could be •Come,’ said the old truant, “let us gather thistles, And make a grand bouquet of briars and thorns. Come out in the darkness, the cyclones and tempests. Come into the wilds of the winds and the storms.” They went from the shadow, but found only sunshine; Death’s nearest approach then seemed farthest away. He searched for the thistles; she found only flowers; He gave up his task and received her bouquet, no. it. I’m sitting in doubt, ’mid tho trembling of passion, , And quenching my fears ’mid tho flames of love’s fire, For Robin insists we must be in the fashion And wait yet a year, notwithstanding desire. Oh! could I but quicken his flame to my notion, And stir up the embers that smolder and pine, I'd bask in the heat that would give my nope motion, And fill his soul full of that burning in mine. I know Robin loves me with his understanding, And seems to appreciate fervor and fear ; But that is not what my love’s life is demanding, It wants a love unafraid to approach near. It wants a love that will draw me to its folding And cover my soul with its comforting bliss; It wants a love that, as me in its arms holding, Will welcomemy love with alover’s warm kiss. To-day, as we sat on the sofa conversing, My soul was enraptured with hopings the more, Hut not a thing happened, he went on rehearsing The same old. old story he’d told me before. Ch ! how my heart ached for a drink at its leisure ! Oh ! how my lips parched ! how my bosom did swell! How’ trembled my limbs ! how 1 longed without measure! And how , spite of all these, disappointment as well. ■Oh! Robin, come love me. The doe on the mountain Is never so free as thou mayest be here. Come stay ’mid the billdws, come taste at the fountain.

’Twill give thee sweet pleasure if thou wilt i r vw near. And ah ! Robin dearest! let me thee entwining Burn into thy soul the sweet passion of love, Or revel me in its sweet comfort subliming, And joy in its glory which comes from above. Chicago. 111.