Poems of home and country :: :: University of Virginia Library

So swiftly the years on their axles have rolled,
The scenes they have brought us seem only a dream,—
Like shooting stars, crossing the ocean of blue,
Or bubbles of air floating down on the stream.

When roused from our dreaming, we find 't is all real,
The months, in their flight, have rolled up into years,
With shadows and brightness, with sorrows and joys,
The glow of their hopes, and their faith, and their tears.

Our birthdays, like milestones, are stationed to tell
How rapid the pace, and how far off the start;
We note them, we count them; but what are the years,
If only young love lingers warm in the heart?

Methinks Father Time, in his hurry, forgot,
And marked on his tally more years than have sped;
No blush of the red rose has paled from your cheek,
No petal of white fluttered down on your head.

By sickness and weakness, bereavement and pain,
Like flowers by the tempest your heart has been bowed;
But Love has provided more gladness than gloom,
More mercy than judgment, more sunshine than cloud.

What mercy and goodness have gleamed through your years!
How lovely, how swiftly the fifty have passed!
With glow of the sunset, and glory, and peace,
May fifty be added,—the crown of the last.