Minnesota weekly times. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1854-1859, 1856-01-05
THE NEW YEAR.

We have not space Tor nor inclination to write
q homily on the New Year. The incidents
are familiar to all. War still continues to en-
ervate Europe, while Peace continues to add
strength and prosperity to our own country
Though the pestilence has ragged in the south
ern portion of the land and swept many from
the scenes of their hopes and ambitions, still
the masses have been blessed with good health.
The prosperity Of our own City and Territory
has been flattering, and looking back to the
past and then forward to the future, we have
much to encourage US as the Sun Of the New
Year lightens the path over which we are to
travel our annual round. Personally, we have
much to be thankful for. Our business has
doubled since the last year, and our subscrip.
ton list is continually increasing. Hoping
that others may be equally successful, we ex-
tend to all our kind regards, wishing them
A HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS New YEAR.
THE CLOSING YEAR.
BY GEORGE d. PRENTICE.
'Tis Minnighrs holy hou-and silence
Is broodng like q gentle spirit, o'er
The still and pulseless world. Harki on the winds
The belps deep tones are swelling; 'ts the knell
OF the departed year. No funeral train
Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream and wood,
With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest,
Like pale, spotless shroud the air is strr'd,
Asby mourner's sigh, and Ga yon cloud,
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand,
Young Spring, bright SUMMER Autumn's solemn form,
And Winter with his aged locks, and breathe
In mournful cadences, that come abroad
Like the far wnd-harp's wild and touching wall,
melancholy dirge DER the dead year,
Gone from the earth forever. 'Tis q time
For memory and for tears. Within the deep,
whose tones are like wizard voice Of Time,
Heard from the tomb Of ages, points its cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have pass'd away,
Ind left ,dyw Of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifts
And, bending mournfully above the pale
that sumber there, scatters dead flowers
O'er what has passed to nothingness. The year
Has gone, and, with It, many a glorious throng
or happy dreams. Its mark is each brow,
1t waved its sceptre o'er the beautiful,
And they not. 1t laid its pallId hand .fl
Upon the strong man, and the naughty form
1t trod the hall Of revery, where throng'd .:
The bright and joyous, and the fearful wall -..'
OF stricken ones is heard, where erst the song r,E
And reckless shout resounded. 1t pass'd o'er
The batte-plsin, where sword and spear and shield
Fiash'd in the light Of mdday-and the strength
OF serried hosts is shiver'd, and the grass,
Green from the soil of carnage, waves above
The crush'.i and mouldering skeleton. II came
Yet, ere It melted in the viewless air,
1t heralded its millions their home
In the dim I'M. land Of Of dreams: Remorselesa Time
Can stay him in his silent course, melt
His iron heart to pity? On still on
The condor of the Andes, that
Through heavens unfathom able depths, or brave
The fury Of the northern hurricane,
Furls bis broad wings at nigh,fall, and sinks down
To rest upon his mountain-cragcbutT Time
Knows rot the weight of sleep or WEAKNESS,
o'er earth, like troubled visions DER the breast
or dreaming sorrow; cities rise and siuk,
bubbles