The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
 |
On the Close of the Year.—Christian Examiner.
|
 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
On the Close of the Year.—Christian Examiner.
'Tis midnight—from the dark blue sky,
The stars, which now look down on earth,
Have seen ten thousand centuries fly,
And give to countless changes birth.
The stars, which now look down on earth,
Have seen ten thousand centuries fly,
And give to countless changes birth.
And when the pyramids shall fall,
And, mouldering, mix as dust in air,
The dwellers on this altered ball
May still behold them glorious there.
And, mouldering, mix as dust in air,
The dwellers on this altered ball
May still behold them glorious there.
271
Shine on! shine on! with you I tread
The march of ages, orbs of light;
A last eclipse may o'er you spread;
To me, to me, there comes no night.
The march of ages, orbs of light;
A last eclipse may o'er you spread;
To me, to me, there comes no night.
O, what concerns it him, whose way
Lies upward to the immortal dead,
That a few hairs are turning gray,
Or one more year of life has fled?
Lies upward to the immortal dead,
That a few hairs are turning gray,
Or one more year of life has fled?
Swift years, but teach me how to bear,
To feel, and act, with strength and skill,
To reason wisely, nobly dare,
And speed your courses as ye will.
To feel, and act, with strength and skill,
To reason wisely, nobly dare,
And speed your courses as ye will.
When life's meridian toils are done,
How calm, how rich, the twilight glow!
The morning twilight of a sun,
That shines not here—on things below.
How calm, how rich, the twilight glow!
The morning twilight of a sun,
That shines not here—on things below.
But sorrow, sickness, death—the pain
To leave, or lose, wife, children, friends—
What then? Shall we not meet again,
Where parting comes not, sorrow ends?
To leave, or lose, wife, children, friends—
What then? Shall we not meet again,
Where parting comes not, sorrow ends?
The fondness of a parent's care,
The changeless trust that woman gives,
The smile of childhood—it is there,
That all we love in them still lives.
The changeless trust that woman gives,
The smile of childhood—it is there,
That all we love in them still lives.
Press onward through each varying hour;
Let no weak fears thy course delay;
Immortal being, feel thy power;
Pursue thy bright and endless way.
Let no weak fears thy course delay;
Immortal being, feel thy power;
Pursue thy bright and endless way.
| The American common-place book of poetry | |