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The Rage Of Strong Drink

The Rage Of Strong Drink image
Parent Issue
Day
10
Month
April
Year
1874
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Mino is the world's too common tolo A roay and a happy band, A lióme withiu a mosay vale, A mother'a loving word and hand; S!lc ' watched with toar and generous prido My feet youth's dewy slopo asceud, She 8uw, at every largor stride, My steps to power and glory tend. . Beyond theae walls in whicti I pine God's wild flowers aweeten all the air, The white clouds rest, the watera shine, Blue are the akic-s, the fields ure fair; But here !- yea, I, the living dead, Have yet my past- grim hars and walls. And hun, whose nightjy measured tread Like clay upou a coffiu, falla. O, worlds ahould go if worlds were mine, Could they those nioments brin" again, When I, in that calm amile of thmo, My mother walked as free trom atain As the sweet heaven that seemed above Uur quiet home to stoop ao near. Pure as the stream that through our grove Sang to its violets half the year. High soared my hopes ; I sallied forth. Upon life's fair, deoeitful stream. I left the kiugdoms of the earth Below me in my splendid dieam ; My blood leaped wheu the plaudits ran Along the wonderiug multitude ü, I would climb wherever man On Fame's bright mountain crowns had ütood. I feit the light of woman's eye Upon me at the banquet shine, They spoke of uames that oannot die, Ihey called my name around their wine. Mino was the will no irowna can bend, lhe tongue to hold the crowd in thrall, 1 saw the fadeless wreath descend- One beastly charm has shrouded all ! What lurking tiend, what poison streams blow, spoiled me of my goal, my crown ? Ah, this I know : in all my dreams Of triumph, splendor, wealth, renown, In all the shapes that round me shone, The rosy hues that clothed the scène, I seldom saw or thought of One, The meek-eyed, tender Nazerene. Woe, woe, for lust, and vice and Bin I Their devotees are starving slaven 1 All up and down earth's bosom green, They dig the deepest, coldest graves : öee ! one by one come out the stars, Faiut falls the city's dying rour, The uight-wmd at my prison bars Siugs " Felón, felón, hope uo more 1 " - Evangelist.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Michigan Argus