Written for the Sentinel.
The Book of Memory
By Letson.
There is a book which none can read,
Save him by whom it is possessed.
A wonderous volume ‘tis indeed,
That’s written in each human breast!
Could we but turn its pages o’er,
And scan the lines on each engraved;
And read the trials, troubles sore,
And thoughts by which the mand’s enslaved;
The traces left by Passion deep;
The lines by Folly’s finger traced;
Where Hope so bright, that never sleeps,
Has many thrillling chapters graced;
And see where Conscience, stearn and true,
Has written warnings, broad and clear,
(A voice that’s listened to by few,)
Which caused the wayward soul to fear;
And view the page which Love did write,
The joys and fears thereon contained;
And read of Hymen’s sweet delight,
When he in regal triumph reighed;
Then scan the many pictures fair,
By Mercy and Benevolence drawn;–
The brightest, sweetest traces ere
Were painted the pure soul upon;–
Oh! could we view, each line, each word,
Each thought, each deed, as there portrayed,–
And all the soul has seen and heard,
Well might we start and be dismayed!
– Published in The Union Sentinel, Osceola, Iowa, January, 31, 1863
The Book of Memory
By Letson.
There is a book which none can read,
Save him by whom it is possessed.
A wonderous volume ‘tis indeed,
That’s written in each human breast!
Could we but turn its pages o’er,
And scan the lines on each engraved;
And read the trials, troubles sore,
And thoughts by which the mand’s enslaved;
The traces left by Passion deep;
The lines by Folly’s finger traced;
Where Hope so bright, that never sleeps,
Has many thrillling chapters graced;
And see where Conscience, stearn and true,
Has written warnings, broad and clear,
(A voice that’s listened to by few,)
Which caused the wayward soul to fear;
And view the page which Love did write,
The joys and fears thereon contained;
And read of Hymen’s sweet delight,
When he in regal triumph reighed;
Then scan the many pictures fair,
By Mercy and Benevolence drawn;–
The brightest, sweetest traces ere
Were painted the pure soul upon;–
Oh! could we view, each line, each word,
Each thought, each deed, as there portrayed,–
And all the soul has seen and heard,
Well might we start and be dismayed!
– Published in The Union Sentinel, Osceola, Iowa, January, 31, 1863
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