And I thank the Father who gives me strength But I cannot still this throbbing heart, 'Twas not the lips of the girl that spoke, But the cheek was thin and pale! And I knew if her soul but dared to breathe, It would tell the same sad tale: And the shining wheels and moving bands But their music could not still the voice O God! I thought, if those whose feet Would sometimes turn from pleasure's paths To dry the tear and comfort give The stricken, suffering one, The Father above would bless, I know, The good that they had done. Oh! not alone in factory walls May you find the honest poor; The busy loom would make music sweet There are idle hands that would gladly toil, And starving ones who'd welcome a crust, I turned my steps from the toiling throng And I saw no pale and hollow cheek, But each form was fair, and footstep free, But the mirth of the merry laugh was hushed MRS. BETTIE M. ZIMMERMAN. HE "Southern Illustrated News," published at the capital of the TH "Confederate States," was an excellent “ war literary journal," though not much of the "illustrated!" In this paper many excellent articles appeared from writers hitherto unknown to the public, and many writers made their début therein. As some one has remarked, "many ladies turned to writing as a refuge from anxiety." Several of the writers of the "News," whose first effusions appeared in its columns, are now "high on the steps of "fame's ladder,” and are not only welcome, but well-paid contributors to Northern literary journals. It was in 1863 that the "News" contained creditable poems by “Mrs. B. M. Z———" and the following year, the "Southern Field and Fireside" (Augusta) published some poems from the same pen. Mrs. Zimmerman is by birth a North-Carolinian, and daughter of the late Rev. Thomas Meredith, an eminent divine of the Baptist denomination. Some years since she was married to R. P. Zimmerman, of Georgia, since which time she has resided in that State. For several years she made the beautiful city of Augusta her home, but the shadow of death there fell upon her life, clouding its brightness; for in its lovely, peaceful "city of the dead" sleeps her boy, to whom she alludes in the beautiful poems, "Three Years in Heaven" and "Christmas Tears." During and since the close of the war she has lived in Atlanta "that monument of a conqueror's wrath," which is now, phoenix-like, rising from the ashes of desolation in renewed youth and beauty. Mrs. Zimmerman possesses a taste and talent for literature, and writing, with her, has been a pleasing pastime merely, she only lacking the study and application to make a name in the "book of Southern literature." CHRISTMAS TEARS. But one little stocking hangs to-night Upon my chimney wall, Swinging its little, nerveless foot, Where the fitful shadows fall. But one to-night! Seven years gone by, But one little sock for Santa Claus Now searching for treasure there! The mated socks lie folded away, The radiant eyes, and warm, red lips, The glad, young heart will greet no more Then, is it strange that my heart will turn, That a shadow comes with the dawning Of this age-resounding chime? Alas! my heart must ever be sad, And the blinding tear-drops fall, When I miss the little stocking SECOND LOVE. Suggested by reading a poem entitled, "First Love." Oh! tell me not that hope is vain, And life forever blighted, When once the star of love has set In passion unrequited; That like a simoom o'er the soul, It sweeps away the joys of life, They tell me that in hopeless love By master-hand forsaken, God never made that mystic flame, So soon to be benighted. 'Twas made to kindle up through life The sparks of hope and pleasure, 'Tis true, some ruthless hand may sweep They say not true who tell that hearts That, should the first sweet dream of hope No other love can e'er relight The dying, tear-stained embers, Ah, no! the heart may thrill and throb But yet that heart can love again, Another idol enter These flowery niches of the soul, Where earth and heaven centre. |