The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1853-07-07

play and if you cannot help forward the goo
time coming, we pray you hinder it as little
ye can. r.
For the National Era.
THE LAST TIME"
BY LEILA LINwooD.
Oh, strange Omegas Of the human heart
Goals of the Past, whence altered Futures start
Yo shed moonlight on our pcriahed bliss,
More tender than possessions sunny kiss
Ye lift to grandeur what vas dull before,
And glorify the life that is no more
Naught is so trivial in careless eyes,
But wears q something sacred when it dies
All that is beautiful, all that is great
Departing, gathers richer bloom and state.
Like trembling balances Of vcspcr bells,
When the cool night-wnd every echo swells,
Falls ON my ear, in soft yet solemn chime,
The music of that time-tIs last dear time
The last, tho Last oh, words whose very tone
Blends a full choir of memories deep, in one,
How are We fragrant with fair blossoms dead,
And dewy with sad tears, baptismal shod
We 20 from out the place where once we dweit,
From those old affairs whero our childhood knelt,
From that safe sosf which full score of years
Shut out thivodd Of struggles and of fcars;
With lingering steps VIC pass the chambers through
With earnest looks, to take the final view
Pausing beside zach favorite window long
Humming unconscious the familiar song,
Till some loud footstep in the empty halls
Recalls the sense TO these ungarnished walls,
And slowly. with the exiles sinking heart,
Room aftos room we traverse and depart.
The vines are massy Der the closing door,
Our naples grsndor than the spring before
The roses set the garden in glow.
The little brook runs singing just below
Down the wide street single spire shows white,
In the dark trees that wrap the church from sight
And on yon mountain, all the sloping length
Ofwoods waving in their summer strength,
And the smooth stretch of fields that lie between
Is wrought in blocks of golden brown and green
Adicu, adieu---shs year is in its prime
Yet look we on thee so, The last street timr.
We who love we'll doth Providence divide
By deeps of distance, swelling ocean-wide.
They leave u.s. with whose spirits thread by thread
Ourselves are woven we must learn to tread
Our separate paths, with desolated feet
Up to that land where all the pilgrims meet
To ycarn for absent lips and eyes in vain,
To wait till Heaven shall give them back again.
Once moro around the doar and faithful hearth,
That echoed voices of q buried mirth,
- We meet, our human hearts all inly stirred
By tesrs, to hallow each the parting word
The last siSvf sigse-oh! mighty plunge of sound,
That whirls the csrrcRts Of our life around,
And drives along the gulf Of yeas before,
wave to break upon tn EtornafsAoro!
We shut great drops Of sorrow from oufeyes,
And crush the breath that rises thick with sSgbs,
And win faint smiles to fit upon the lip -.
As light on streams where swinging willows dip,
That love may bear her memories away,
Sweet as the glory of a dying day,
And farewels, floating exquisitely calm,
Go down the distance, like tender psalm.
Some bird of Paradise, within our breast,
Is struggling, futtering, rising from its nest
We dream Of Fame and every glory-blast
Decotful sounds, to mock us when It's past.
We dream OF Happiness, and 10 the cloud
Of sorrow mantles DER us like a shroud,
While bright and fair upon the days before
Shine out our prophecies of JOY no more
But cold and gray, adown the waiting years,
The shadog Of Oyr Fastening grief appears.
We dream Of Love, and spirits dark as night
Bend Ger us, whited in hor stolen light.
The soul is worthless where We thought TO trust
The past has como for burial, dust to dust
Sweet fancies, tones of harmony, and bloom
That leaves q desert in its vacant room
Yet waking from this droam, whate or its name,
We wonder whence the dear illusion came,
And vainly clasp it fast, with noistenod eyes,
To call it true a moment ero il flies
One last sad moment there are hours of bliss.
We lnger on less eagerly than this
Years roll thor changes with rapid wheel,
New features on the olden landscape steal
Life is drama, and each separate act
Distinctly closes with a tragic tact
Life is poem, and each chapter Ger
Sealed once, can never be reopened more!
Silent and solemn, at the pause stand,
And turn the leaf with unsteady hand.
To-day about US hangs a memory vast,
Familiar joys, and duties, flying fast
And round whose wounds tho heavenly balm is
poured
Dear walks and pleasant scenes the love of youth,
And circng friends, unsullicd in their truth
Tomorrow turns US in the common wide,
And brings thousand chances all untried-
stranger life, thought of homelessness
An ache which only God can sootbe or bless.
fe fitting moments, lnger as ye go,
And onward pass, with thoughtful step and slow,
Press closer yet thou dear, thou blessed Past
Ono more farewell embrace-it is tho last
The last brief words, that gather back the pain
OF many sadness on my heart again
The seal OF all most bright and fair below,
The murmur Of liies waters Is they Aow,
The mortal curse reflected everywhere-
In Heaven alone, there ia some blessed air
Which shuts out change, and with It's holy kiss
lnsures an immortality Of bliss