 | The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival |  |
THE FLIGHT OF TIME.
Faintly flow, thou falling river,
Like a dream that dies away;
Down to ocean gliding ever,
Keep thy calm, unruffled way:
Time with such a silent motion
Floats along on wings of air,
To eternity's dark ocean,
Burying all its treasures there.
Like a dream that dies away;
Down to ocean gliding ever,
Keep thy calm, unruffled way:
Time with such a silent motion
Floats along on wings of air,
To eternity's dark ocean,
Burying all its treasures there.
Roses bloom, and then they wither;
Cheeks are bright, then fade and die;
Shapes of light are wafted hither,—
Then, like visions, hurry by:
Quick as clouds at evening driven
O'er the many-colored west,
Years are bearing us to heaven,
Home of happiness and rest.
Cheeks are bright, then fade and die;
Shapes of light are wafted hither,—
Then, like visions, hurry by:
Quick as clouds at evening driven
O'er the many-colored west,
Years are bearing us to heaven,
Home of happiness and rest.
| The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | |