The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1855-07-28
Original 1Ooetrp.
For The Cecil Hhig.
TO Thee.

brought
The mighty circuit of the years around
To that recurring point which marks the hour
When first thine eye bched the light Of earth.
Hour follows hour month chases flying month
Along that mystic cycle, year ny year,
Fearing its coronal OF opening flowers,
Springs mellow music, Autumn's glorious pomp,
Ear,h's gorgeous dreams, dead hopes and weary
hearts
Down to the silence of mighty grave
Whose jaws are ever open to receive
IN that has life and form. the loved the young,
The good and beautiful, into his dark
And vast and ifeess bosom. Ever on
TIy the swift winged hours and leave no trace
Save that cur hearts little older grow
As each fits hy--a little more OF dust
| srown upon their freshness and the lamp
That beams within their temple burns more family
And still they beat and beat; we live and move,
We run the same dull and perpetual round
,fhollow mirth, heart fever, sun and cloud,
Until the hour that brings the shroud and pail,
And We lie down unto drcamlcss rest,
Another year with all its hopes and flowers
u a. circlod by--how has it flown to me!
Its dawning came like some fair morn that looks
W it'll her bright heraldry Of golden clouds
Upon a sluInberng world. 1t came in joy
A light beam from that golden vested dawn
Touched my heart swcetly and it loaped as whom
The dying christian hears through death cold
mist
The voice that bids him to his Master come.
! trod enchanted ground; Hopes violet winds
Rustled the bending roscs Of my heart,
Shed fresh glory DER their bursting buds
Aud shook the perfume from their honcycd cells;
The world, to me- was more glorious world,
its voceful woodlands wore a richer green,
In deeper glory died its solemn sunsets,
loved its forms with less earthly love,
For on my heart had risen a natohless dawn
Of hone and love and beauty beheld
The brightness that o'eraowed all living things
Deeper and deeper grow, as hour by hour
And day by day sped on, each adding still
Some strango and hidden richness to the sweet
Earth harmony that over Hoated by
But woe to human heart. that vanly lean
On reeds as fragile as the Autumn flowers!
saw that sun arise in pomp and gold,
] saw it sink away in gathering clouds
And silence and thick darkness, and the song
That Nature breathed above its opening grave
Was not the sound which the rapt poet hears
Poured from the airs and delicate lips of Spring
Above the birth of all her glorious forms
Pale Swallowed violsts and sweet-odored roses;
Eut great dirge as whom mighty hope
Goes to its grave, or some green, lovely world,
With all its flashing waters and bright hills,
Sinks down in night and ashes What is left!
70 me desert without leaf or bloom,
Or fount in all its gloomy waste of sands
A world across whose black and starless vault
Flashes the lurid lightning, while sound
deep, lone and boding ever rolls along
The all-involving darkness like a wall
Above the beautiful, the lost and gone
And still the bleak and heavy hours roll on:
The Autumn's dead leaves and the bloom of Spring
Tho hoary hairs Of Age. Ambitions pomp
And naughty blazonry Of blood bought power
Rush down " that dull sleep which hath n
dreams
Each in its thin, white shroud. I live and gaze
Upon the rolling wreck without tear
Or wish to pluck one pale, reproachful flower
Ere it depart forever All loved
Goes darkIy down upon the gliding mass.
Yet something still is left me--ro ENDURE,
10 know Prometheus lot no tabled doom,
70 feel the fire, the vulture and the chain,
And bear amidst the busy ways of mon
The burden Of a torn and witIercd heart
Another year with all It's hopes and flowers
Has circlcd by;-how has it flown to theet
With their most vocoless tread and hidden sound
To thee, the rapid hours have gcntler flown.
They have sped DER thee bringing pleasant dream
High hopes, beneath whose light the dull, col
earth
Grew to Paradise that bloomed with hucs
Too sacred for the gaze of mortal man.
Yet with thy flowing locks and glorious eye
And form Of moro than womans beauty, thou
Hast not escaped their ravage-thcy have torn
From the dim future one ll-sapping year!
Waved the inverted torch 'er its dead joys
And turned away and hid their eyes for grief
Within their robes-darkncss and dreary clouds
Like AgameInnon weeping Der his child.
More gently to thy spirit than to mine
he winged hours have flown, yet some regrets
Mocking at Death. far off amidst the dim
And holy Land Of Memory, from their shrouds
Stretch forth their skeleton fingers and point dow
Across that wild and shadowy roalm, to thee.
And there will sometimes mingle with the song
That tremblcs from thy lips, while gathered roun,
The listening throng hang mute upon thy tones,
Another music all unheard by them;
A melancholy, low. upbraidins tone
OF hours which thou wouldst vany strive to blot
Forever from the leaves Of Memory
by ono dead hour nearer the yearning grave.
Nearer the silver locks an d furrowcd brow
Remember that the greenest leaf will fall,
The brightest bird from the near Dough take win
The ivy rustic on the regal walls
Where music rose and the red vino was poured,
The eagle from his cloud sink down, and this
Dull sickness Of the heart may yet be thine
voice may yet upon thy slumbcrs rise
To tell thee with tone that burn. thy brain,
1t were not we'll to spurn tho heart that loved
So deeply and so wildly-fare thee we'll!
Across tho bare and barren hills Of time
Our paths must lilo asunder-fare thee we'll
MIsDEN, La TIL
REMEDY FOR THE SUMNER COMPLAINT