Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1855-07-11
" Died Yesterday"

Every day is written this little sentence
Died yesterday, so and So Every day, a
flower is plucked from some happy home;
breach is made in some happy circle a
jewel is stolen from some treasury of love-
Each day, from the summer fields of life,
some harvester disappears-yea, every hour,
some sentinel falls from his post, and is thrown
from the ramparts Of time into the surging
waters of eternity. Even as we write, the
funeral Of one who died Yesterday winds
like a winter shadow along the street.
Died yesterday Who died? Perhaps
it was gentle babe, sinless as an angel,
pure as the zephyr's hymn-one whose
laugh was as gush of summer rills loiter-
ing in bower Of roses-whose little life was
a perpetual litany, May-tme crowned with
the passion flows that never fade. Or,
mayhap it was a youth, hopeful and gener-
ous-one whose path was hemmed by flow
ers with not lurking underneath-one
whose soul painted after communion with The
great and good, and reached forth with ear
nest struggle for the guerdon in the distance.
Butthat heart of his is still now, for he died
yesterday
Died yesterday A young girl, pure
as the orange flowers that elasped her fore
head, was stricken down as she stood at the
altar, and from the dim asles of the temple
she was borne to the garden of the slum-
bers.' A tall, Drowned man, girt with the
halo Of victory, and at the days close, under
his own vine and fig tree, fell to dust even
as the anthem trembled upon his lips and
he, too, was laid where the rude forefath-
ers of the hamlet sleep An angel patriarch,
bowed with age and cares, even as he looked
out upon the distant hills for the coming of
| the angel host, sank into dreamless slum-
Der; and on his door-post, next day, was
written, Died yesterday ...
Died yesterday Daily, men, women
, and children, are passing away; ard hourly,
! in some grave yard, the soil is flung upon
r the dead AS often in the morn we fnG
, some flower that bushed sweetly in the SUM-
: set has wthered up forever, SO, daily, when
: we rise from the bivouac to stand against
our posts, we miss some brother soldier
whose CHEEKY cry in the sieges and struggles
! of the past has been as fire from heaven up
on our hearts.
}. Each day some pearl drops from the Jew
S eled threads of friendship-some lyre tc
d which we have been won't to listen ha
is been hushed forever But ise is he VIII
IS mourns not the pearl and music lost, fo
r life with him shall pass away as an eastern
= shadow fromthe hill and death be triumph
,e and gain.
as ae ia 1t is shame to the pride Of our hu
y manity that the great mass of the peopl
= are but the tools of circumstances-mo
- in the hurricane, leaves On the river, thistle
II dom on the breeze: their course is marke
VI out for them by the currents and impulse
en- e1n of the stream of life, as if they were merel
! A. inanimate things and not men, sMan shoul
ne be the master of circumstances; andin prt
~ portion as he gains his humanity, and fo
er ecr ters the noble spirit Of manlineSs and tru
:l u, moral courage, and recognizes loyalty
,iu ,iu a God above his powers-so far will he ri.
ny above surrounding circumstances, and b
oi; them rise or fall at his indomitable will.