Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/437

 AUSTIN T. EARLE. Austin T. Earle was bom in Nashville, Tennessee, fifteenth June, 1821. His father dying when he was about four years old, his mother returned to her native city, Baltimore, Maryland, and after residing there a short time, removed to Jefferson coun- ty, Ohio. There Mr. Earle remained until his seventeenth year. His educational ad- vantages were small, attending school in the log school-house in the neighborhood, in all about one year. He subsequently passed two or three years in steamboating, and in the larger towns on the Ohio river. In 1841 he settled in Cincinnati, and became an occasional contributor to the Cin- cinnati newspapers. In the autumn of 1843, in connection with Benjamin St. James Fry, he engaged in the publication of the Western Humbler, a weekly hterary maga- zine, which soon failed from a lack of capital and experience. In 1846 Mr. Earle went to Mexico as a private in the "First Rifles" of the first Regiment, Ohio Volunteers. He found time during his soldier life to frequently con- tribute poetical and prose articles to the Cincinnati Daily Times. Since his return he has resided principally in Cincinnati, but more lately in Newport, Kentucky. Mr. Earle's poetry is principally lyrical, and marked by ease of versification and much feeling. He is also gifted with considerable power of description ; and it is to be regretted that he has not cultivated his powers with more perseverance. The cir- cumstances of his life, combined with a melancholic temperament, have contributed to give a gloomy cast to much of his writing. He has never collected his poems in a volume, and now contributes but rarely to the literary journals. THIS WINTER NIGHT, 'TIS DREARY. A TIME I do remember well, When all the earth was covered o'er With snow that fast and thickly fell ; And moaning winds were at the door. My father to the mill had gone, My mother with her toil was weary, Whilst sister Sue did nothing do, But look and listen, sigh and yawn, " This winter night, ah me ! 'tis dreary." The hickory logs were all ablaze. That lay within the chimney jams. And threw aloft the ruddy rays. Where to the rafters hung the hams ; And on the polished puncheon floor, A warmth and light we christen cheery, Yet sister Sue did nothing do. But sigh and yawn, as oft before, " This winter night, ah me ! 'tis dreary." The youngsters all had gone to bed, And I sat gazing in the fire, Imagining in the embers red, A village with its church and spire. Old Lion to the hearth had drawn. His limbs, so feeble, worn and weary, (421)