LIFE.

Clutha Leader, Volume XX, Issue 1030, 20 April 1894, Page 3

LIFE.

4, The following prose poem is fch< utterance of R. G. Ingersoll : — Born of love and hope, of ecstasy nnd pain, of agony and fear, of teat.' and joy — dowered with the wealth o two united hearts — held in happj arms, with lips upon life's drifted font blue-vinnod and fair, whore perfec' peace finds perfect form — rocked bj wiling feet and wooed to shadowy shores of sleep by siren mother singing soft and low — looking with wonder'; wide and startled eyes at com m or things of life and day — taught l>y wan! and wish and contact with the things that t§ uch the dimpled flesh of babes, lured by light and flame, and charmed by color's wondrous robes — learning the use of hands and feet, and by the love of mimicry beguiled to utter speech — releasing prisoned thoughts from crabbed and curious marks on soiled and tattered leaves; — puzzling the brain with crooked numbers and their changing, tangled worth — and so through years of alternating day and night, until the captive grows familiar with the chains and walls and limitations of a life. And time runs on in sun and shade, until the one of all the world is wooed and won, and all the lore of love is taught and learned again. Again a home is built with the fair chamber wherein faint dreams, like cool and shadowy vales, divide the billowed hours cf love. Again the miracle of birth — the pain and joy, the kiss of welcome and the cradle-song drowning the drowsy prattle of a babe. And then the sense of obligation and of wrong — pity for those who. toil and weep — tears for the imprisoned and despised — love for the geneious dead, and in the heart the rapture of a high resolve. And then ambition, with ita lust of place and pelf and power, longing to put upon its breast distinction's worthless badge. Then keener thoughts of men, and eyes that see behind the smiling mask of craft — flattered no more by the obsequious cringe of gain and greed — knowing the uselessness of hoarded gold : — of honor bought from those who charge the usury of selfrespect — of power that only bends a coward's knees and forces from the lips of fear the lies of ptaise. Knowing at (last the unstudied gesture of esteem, the reverent eyes made rich with honest thought, and holding high above all other things — high as hope's great throbbing star above the darkness of the dead — the love of wife and child and friend. Then locks of grey, and growing love of other days and half-remembered things — then holding withered hands of those who first held his, while over dim and loving eyes death softly presses down the lids of rest. And so. locking in marriage vows his children's hands and crossing others on the breasts of peace, with daughters' babes upon his knees, the white hair mingling with the gold, he journeys on from day to day to that horizon where the dusk is waiting for the night. At last, sitting by the holy hearth of home as evening's embers change from red to gray, he falls asleep within the arms of her he worshipped and adored, feeling upon his pallid lips love's last and holiest kiss.