How She Felt in Her First Corset and Other Poems Part 2

POLITICAL ECONOMY.

CHAPTER I--PRODUCTION.

A youth, not handsome from an outward view, Whose features stern belied the mellowness That dwelt behind his earnest, steadfast look, Delved in his heart upon a summer day And found therein a narrow vein of love.

The prospect pleased, and on development He found the mine was rich. For years he worked And piled in heaps the ore upon the dump.

Deep 'neath the mountain ridges of his heart He branched out levels on the silvered streak, And found almost exhaustless hidden wealth.

He sought a.s.sociation, and he found A friend who brought the skill to treat the ore.

He wasted not the wealth by labor won, But, when refined, he stored the bricks away, Until within himself there was no s.p.a.ce, And he was but a treasure house of love.

CHAPTER II--EXCHANGE.

The youth is lost. Behold, on manhood's verge, Our hero now. A market for his ware He seeks at home in vain. There smallest coins Supply the daily needs, and he must seek A distant sh.o.r.e, and one to coin his wealth.

Undauntedly, despite unbroken paths, Unheeding storms and floods, he presses on To reach her side. An aged man stands guard, And yet he marches up the walks unchecked.

His very boldness awes. A maiden there Is pleased with what he brings, and from her heart She gladly pays him golden coin therefor.

She mints her boughten wealth, and later on They meet again. They ride the garden gate.

Proximity, free trade promote exchange.

She pays him back his own, each coin a kiss.

The market steady rules, demand is strong.

Supply exhaustless. 'Tis called a fair exchange, And yet they both are richer made thereby.

CHAPTER III--CONSUMPTION.

Beneath her father's roof we see them next, And at the altar plight their faith--each heart By love firm bound, and yet by love left free.

The years roll by and for the staff of life They live on love. They need conveniences, And love provides them all. Their luxuries Are daily feasts of love. There are some days When, overcome by care and household toils, Her heart is faint, but when she seeks his side She meets love's sweet caress and cheering kiss, And wonders that her spirits ever drooped.

He never leaves her side but with a kiss, And, when they meet again, he clasps her form And plants love's token on her waiting lips.

Would'st thou the secret know, of happy homes?

'Tis gallantries like these that make them so.

At times when prostrate on her bed she lays, She makes sad inroads on his stock of wealth; Still, freely, lavishly he gives it her, And wooes her back to health again, thro' love.

About the hearth a troop of children comes, And as he soothes and cheers their restless hearts, His garnered wealth, like snow, fast melts away.

The mine can be depended on no more; Old age creeps on apace, and in his heart He feels the strained timbers giving 'way.

He feeds now on the wealth in other days Invested where 'twould bring a safe return.

With tottering steps yet proud he walks the streets, And still has smiles for everyone he meets.

CHAPTER IV--DISTRIBUTION.

Upon his bed with withered, palsied frame, Behold an aged man! A life well spent Is drawing to a close. About him stand The loved ones of his home. They prop him up As with a halting voice, yet clear, he speaks: "My treasured store of love will soon be yours.

Waste not the capital I leave behind In shedding bitter tears above my grave; I shall not feel thy love, and if I should, 'Twould make me sad to see you weeping there; As thou dost love me, seek and cheer the hearts That find life's road a sad and lonesome way; My dying wish, yes children, my command, Is that you love--yes, love--each oth--er here."

He breathes no more.

The last sad rites performed, The hearts bereaved return with saddened step And enters once again upon life's tasks.

The father's dying wish rings in their ears; They check the flow of tears and rise above The grief that bends them low. Love flows again, And on the gates the youths and maidens fair Are gaily swinging back and forth once more, Fresh coinage from the mint is pa.s.sing now, And, as we walk the streets, upon the air There rings a sound that proves the metal true.