Litchfield enquirer., 1836-03-03
CLOSE OF THE YEAR.

The Following lines upon the close OI the year ara from tbe pen Uf Mr. Prentice. Let them he read fO they are the bursting thoughrs which nought hut the poets most subIimaed fancy could conceiVe--n then there is genius in it's highest inspiration.
 From the Louisville Journal. 'Tis midnighIs holy hour-and silence now Is breeding like gentle spirit o'er The still and pWseIess world. 4lark on the winds The bells deep tones are sWelling-'iis the kmelI or the departed year. No iunerat train Is sweeping pasi-yet, on yOn stream and wood, With melancholy light, the raoonbeams rest Like pale, spOess sbroud-lhe air is stirred As by mOurmer sigIi---And yon cloud That floats SO still and placdy through heaven, The SpirIs of the Seasons seem to stand, Young Spring, bright Summer, Anrumns solemn form, And Winter wilh his aged locks, all breathe, In monrnful cadences that come abroad Like the far wind harp's wild and touching wall, A melancholy dirge oer the dead year H'o"e from the Earth forever.
 'I's time For memory and for tears. Wuhin the deep SliIl chambers of he heart spectre dun, Whose tones are like the wizard voice Of Time Heard from the tomb O. ages, points its, ,cOtd And solemn fnger to the beautiful And holy visions that have passed away, And left no shadow of their loveliness On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifts The coffin lid Of Hope, and Joy, aud Love, And, bending mOurnluly above the pale Sweet forms that sumber there, scaters dead flow Ger what has passed to nothingness. The year Has gone, asd, with ii many glorious lhrong Ot happy dreams. Its mark is each brow, It's shadow in each heart. En it's swift course, It waved its sceptre o'er the beautiful And they are not. IL laid it's paIlid hand Upon the strong man--and the haugh,y form Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dn. IL trod the hall of revery, where thronged The bright and joyous--and the fearful vail Of strIckea ones is heard where erst the song And reck less shout resounded. IL passed o'er The battle plain N here sword and spear and shield Flashed n q 10 Of m flat sho Oi serried hosts Is shIvered, and the grass, Gtepn rom the s"il Of carnage, waves above The crushed aud monIderng skeleton. IL came And faded like d wreath of mist eve. Yet, ere it melted in the vewess air, IL heralded it's millions to their home In the dim land of dreams.
 Remorsaless Thing Fierce Spirit of the Glass and Scythe-whal power Can stay hm in lIis silent course, or melt E's iron heart to pity! On, still on. He presses and forever. The proud bird, The corder of the Andes, that can soar Through Heavens unalhomable depths, or bravo The fury Of the norlherh hurricane. Aud bahe his plumage in the thunder's home, turs broad wings at nghlfall and sinks down To rest upon his mountain crag-bui Time Knows not the weight Of sleep or weariness, And Nights deep darkness has no chain to bind Ills rushing pinion. Revolutions sweep Der Earth, like troubled visions OCT the breast Ot dreaming SOrrOW-Cilies rise and sink Like bubbles on the waer-Fiery isles Sprng blazing from the Ocean, and gO back 10 their my sserious caverns---Nfounlnins rear To heaven their bald and black ened cliffs, and bow Their tall heads 10 tIe pIains-New Empires rise, Gathering the strength of hoary centuries, A nd rush down like the Al pine avalanche, Startling the nali""s-And the very stars, Ton bright and burning blazonry Of God, Glitter awhile in their eternal depth, And, like the Pleiad, oveest of the train, Sho" from their glor'oue spheres and pass away, To darkie ID the rackless soid-Yet Time, Time the Tomb-buiIdrr, holds his fierce career, Dark, stern, ail-pitiless, and pauses not, Am'h lhe mIgh'y wrecks that suew his path, To sit and muse, like other conquerorp, Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought. F.