 | Poems, original and translated |  |
THE NEW YEAR.
Relentless Time, dear friends, has breathed again
Her wintry mood on Nature and on men.
Long since the recreant sun's declining power
Has clipped the merry daylight hour by hour.
Long since the feathered tribes on tireless wing
Have sought the regions of perpetual spring.
Now bound in amber chains the woodland lake
And laughing streamlet hushed to silence lie.
Now earthward softly floats the glittering flake,
And gathering storm-clouds drift across the sky.
Dead in the hollows lie the autumn leaves,
And through the naked tree-tops softly stirs
The spirit of the dying Year, and grieves
In slow, sad moaning to the universe.
Her wintry mood on Nature and on men.
Long since the recreant sun's declining power
Has clipped the merry daylight hour by hour.
Long since the feathered tribes on tireless wing
Have sought the regions of perpetual spring.
Now bound in amber chains the woodland lake
145
Now earthward softly floats the glittering flake,
And gathering storm-clouds drift across the sky.
Dead in the hollows lie the autumn leaves,
And through the naked tree-tops softly stirs
The spirit of the dying Year, and grieves
In slow, sad moaning to the universe.
We stand, indeed, 'twixt two eternities
Of Time; and one has vanished like the dew.
Deep in its breast the stellar systems grew,
And in its dead arms now the last sun lies.
A million ages drop from life and mind
As yesterday, when they are past, and all
The planets circle at their central call,
And never note the years they leave behind.
The slow earth cracked and shrank 'mid rains of fire,
Till through the dull mephitic atmosphere
Young Life arose and whispered, “I am here!”
And thrilled the universe with new desire.
Lo! to the rhythmic chant of Time and Space
An answering murmur chimed from budding trees,
A rushing chorus that shall never cease
Till God hath numbered all the human race.
Far in the sand a sculptured stone appears;
Deep on the halls of kings has grown the mould.
Oh, Love is ever young and ever old,
And hand in hand with Time walk hates and fears.
Deep in the wondrous strata of the earth
Bones of successive ages crystallized;
Humanity lies only half disguised.
A chipped flint tells us of a nation's birth;
From out the mother liquor of events
Precipitates the dim historic tale.
And thou, Old Year, hast passed within the vale,
And night shuts o'er thee with her spangled tents.
Of Time; and one has vanished like the dew.
Deep in its breast the stellar systems grew,
And in its dead arms now the last sun lies.
A million ages drop from life and mind
As yesterday, when they are past, and all
The planets circle at their central call,
And never note the years they leave behind.
The slow earth cracked and shrank 'mid rains of fire,
Till through the dull mephitic atmosphere
Young Life arose and whispered, “I am here!”
And thrilled the universe with new desire.
Lo! to the rhythmic chant of Time and Space
An answering murmur chimed from budding trees,
A rushing chorus that shall never cease
Till God hath numbered all the human race.
Far in the sand a sculptured stone appears;
Deep on the halls of kings has grown the mould.
Oh, Love is ever young and ever old,
And hand in hand with Time walk hates and fears.
Deep in the wondrous strata of the earth
Bones of successive ages crystallized;
146
A chipped flint tells us of a nation's birth;
From out the mother liquor of events
Precipitates the dim historic tale.
And thou, Old Year, hast passed within the vale,
And night shuts o'er thee with her spangled tents.
Yet in this shifting, ever-present Now
Alone is found reality of joy.
Each soul with healthy life it doth endow,
And in its magic romps each girl and boy.
We feel the tingling of our pulse, and know
A thousand years will melt away like snow.
As some great continental artery
Empties its flood upon the coming tide,
And in that grand collision far and wide,
Tiptoed to heaven stands up the frothing sea:
So shall the struggle of the nations be;
When flood-gates burst by press of passion high,
The earth's wild wail shall plash against the sky.
Alone is found reality of joy.
Each soul with healthy life it doth endow,
And in its magic romps each girl and boy.
We feel the tingling of our pulse, and know
A thousand years will melt away like snow.
As some great continental artery
Empties its flood upon the coming tide,
And in that grand collision far and wide,
Tiptoed to heaven stands up the frothing sea:
So shall the struggle of the nations be;
When flood-gates burst by press of passion high,
The earth's wild wail shall plash against the sky.
| Poems, original and translated | |