________________________________________________
Title: Retrospection
Author: John S. Adams [
More Titles by Adams]
HE had drank deep and long from out
The bacchanalian's bowl;
Had felt its poisonous arrows pierce
The recess of his soul;
And now his footsteps turned to where
His childhood's days were cast,
And sat him 'neath an old oak tree
To muse upon the past.
Beneath its shade he oft had sat
In days when he was young;
Ere sorrow, like that old oak tree,
Its own deep shadows flung;
Beneath that tree his school-mates met,
There joined in festive mirth,
And not a place seemed half so dear
To him, upon the earth.
The sun had passed the horizon,
Yet left a golden light
Along a cloudless sky to mark
A pathway for the night;
The moon was rising silently
To reign a queen on high,
To marshal all the starry host,
In heaven's blue canopy.
In sight the schoolhouse stood, to which
In youth he had been led
By one who now rests quietly
Upon earth's silent bed.
And near it stood the church whose aisles
His youthful feet had trod;
Where his young mind first treasured in
The promises of God.
There troops of happy children ran
With gayety along;
'T was agony for him to hear
Their laughter and their song.
For thoughts of youthful days came up
And crowded on his brain,
Till, crushed with woe unutterable,
It sank beneath its pain.
Pain! not such as sickness brings,
For that can be allayed,
But pain from which a mortal shrinks
Heart-stricken and dismayed:
The body crushed beneath its woe
May some deliverance find,
But who on earth hath power to heal
The agony of mind?
O Memory! it long had slept;
But now it woke to power,
And brought before him all the past,
From childhood's earliest hour.
He saw himself in school-boy prime;
Then youth, its pleasures, cares,
Came up before him, and he saw
How cunningly the snares
Were set to catch him as he ran
In thoughtless haste along,
To charm him with deceitful smiles,
And with its siren song:
He saw a seeming friendly hand
Hold out the glittering wine,
Without a thought that deep within
A serpent's form did twine.
Then manhood came; then he did love,
And with a worthy pride
He led a cherished being to
The altar as his bride;
And mid the gay festivity
Passed round the flowing wine,
And friends drank, in the sparkling cup,
A health to thee and thine.
A health! O, as the past came up,
The wanderer's heart was stirred
And as a madman he poured forth
Deep curses on that word.
For well he knew that "health" had been
The poison of his life;
Had made the portion of his soul
With countless sorrows rife.
Six years passed by-a change had come,
And what a change was that!
No more the comrades of his youth
With him as comrades sat.
Duties neglected, friends despised,
Himself with naught to do,
A mother dead with anguish, and
A wife heart-broken too.
Another year-and she whom he
Had promised to protect
Died in the midst of poverty,
A victim of neglect.
But ere she died she bade him kneel
Beside herself in prayer,
And prayed to God that he would look
In pity on them there:
And bless her husband, whom she loved,
And all the past forgive,
And cause him, ere she died, begin
A better life to live.
She ceased to speak,--the husband rose,
And, penitent, did say,
While tears of deep contrition flowed,
"I'll dash the bowl away!"
A smile passed o'er the wife's pale face,
She grasped his trembling hand,
Gave it one pressure, then her soul
Passed to a better land.
He, bent to kiss her pale cold lips,
But they returned it not;
And then he felt the loneliness
And sorrow of his lot.
It seemed as though his life had fled;
That all he called his own,
When her pure spirit took its flight,
Had with that spirit flown.
She had been all in all to him,
And deep his heart was riven
With anguish, as he thought what woe
He her kind heart had given.
But all was passed; she lay in death,
The last word had been said,
The soul had left its prison-house,
And up to heaven had fled;
But 't was a joy for him to know
She smiled on him in love,
And hope did whisper in his heart,
"She'll guard thee from above."
He sat beneath that old oak tree,
And children gathered round,
And wondered why he wept, and asked
What sorrow he had found.
Then told he them this sad, sad tale,
Which I have told to you;
They asked no more why he did weep,
For they his sorrow knew.
And soon their tears began to fall,
And men came gathering round,
Till quite a goodly company
Beneath that tree was found.
The wanderer told his story o'er,
Unvarnished, true and plain;
And on that night three-score of men
Did pledge them to abstain.
[The end]
John S. Adams's poem: Retrospection
________________________________________________
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
