Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1852-11-25
Growing Old ana Passing Away.
BY RLLEN n. MORRILL,.

By ELLkN u. MORRILL,.
Borne on the wings Of every zephyr
that fans the cheek Of mother earth, is
still, low, voice, that chants forth in
mourniul accents, the impressive words.
Grooming old and passing arayi 1t is
written upon every leaf; brightest flowers
bear its impress; fair cheeks pale at the
whispers Of its menacing voice. GO
where we may, this voice will be ever
endeayoring TO remind US ofour inevita-
bic fate. Flowers, which bloom to- day.
to gladden. the eyes and soften and har-
moniZe the natures of mankind, to-mor-
row, have withered-have passed away.
Trees which have reared their proud
heads majesticaliy towards the broad,
blue canopy Of heaven, that have breast
ed many stern blast. and shaded and
protected many a past generation; 10
their branches are leafiess now, and the
wind sighs mournfully through them:-
"GrOtOing old and passing OIoayl"
The mother, as she gazes on the brow
of her fair, young boy, and into his
laughler>loving eyes, can scarcely real
ize that the same destiny awaits her
darling that awaits all others in this
changing world; that he will grow old;
or, perhaps, ere time has planted his i'm
press on the youthful brow, he may pass
away like the delicate flower. The
proud, ardent lover, at the altar side, as
he looks with admiration on the fair,
blooming one he calls his bride, hears
not that low, prophetic voice, which
whispers that the blooming cheek shall
fade; the light, elastic form stoop, grow
old, and pass away. Heard he il, would
not the happy smile flee from his face!
Would not a shudder chill his young
framel All, dimmed would be that hour
OF felicity!
60 into the speechless forest, where
the wild winds play fantastic freaks mid
the huttering, waving leaves; where the
timid bird loves to make her home, and
carol forth her anthems to the great
Originator; where the soft-footed fawn
gambOls on the grassy mounds, and
drinks from the silvery brooks that rush
impetuously over gray, messy, hooks,
and ask whittier halh fed that dark-eyed
Indian maid, who with airy heetness,
bounded through those grand old woods;
or whittier gone the eage~eyed chief,
who glOried in his war whooP! The
praltling brook will tell, as it rambles on,
how the bright maiden and brave warrior
were waited to the spirit land by those
old forest winds, how the blue smoke
that had curIed up from their rude wig
wan, ceased to float on the misty morn;
all passed away.
Go to the broad, free ocean. and ask
OF il, as it foams on in its terrific grand
eur, where are those who have been
proud TO ride on its mountain billows,
and listen to the eternal surging OF its
tides? An answer will come from its
briny depths, they have grown old and
passed away.
Let fancy wait you to the shores OF
antiquity-visit the places which once
knew Bonaparte, Alexander, and the
beautiful Cesar. The fields are green
now which they once wa'ered with the
blood of their victims. Widows and or
phans they have made, are calmly sleep
ing that last, long sleep, that knows no
waking; and they, the conquerors, a
round whose brow fame twined her lau.
rel wreath, they too, have passed away
No longer does the beautiful but vile
Cleopatra captivate and lead astray; she,
like the unknown alms-seeker, has pas
sed where none return. Mighty Demos
themes, whose eloquence made thrones
tremble, mas embarked on that shoreless
ocean, where we must al spread our III
ny sails.
Wend thy way to the crumbling walls
of once splendid castle, where in days
agone, congregated the young, gay and
beautiful, where merriment and banquet
ing broke the hush of night, and the lady
welcomed her knight from fie'd 'ds of val-
or Now the night bird builds her nest
in the deserted halls, and sings a lonely
requiem over that which has passed
away.
Indeed, a salutary lesson may be
learned from the rehearsal Of passed
events and the realities Of the present.
And may we so cultivate and fenilize
our hearts, that we may have blisslul
home in the spirit land at last, where
young hearts ne'er grow old, beauty
never fades, and passing away is un-
known.-N. III. Statesman