The Winchester appeal. [volume] (Winchester, Tenn.) 1856-1856, 1856-04-26
THE DEPARTED YEAR.
RY GEORGE D. PRENTICE.

Is brooding like gentle spirit DER
The still and pulscless world. Hark! on
the winds
The BELLS deep tones are swelling: It's
the knell
OF the departed year No funeral train
Is sweeping past, yet, on the stream and
wood,
With melancholy light, the moonbeams
Like pale, spotless shroud; the air is
stirred
AS by a mourner's sigh; and on yon cloud
That floats SO still and placidly through
heaven,
The spirit Of the seasons seem to stand
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's
solemn form,
And Winter, with his aged locks-anl
breathe,
In mournful cadences, that come abroad
Like the far wind. harp's wild and touch.
ing wall,
A melancholy dirge DER the dead year
Gone from the earth forever.
IT'S time
For memory and for tears. Within the
deep
Still chambers ofthe heart, a spectre dim,
Whose tones are like the wizard voice
Of Time,
Heard from the tomb Of ages, points its
cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And no ly visions, that have passed away
And left no shadow Of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. The spectre
lifts
The coflin.lid of Hope, and Joy and Love,
And bending moumlully above the pale
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters
dead flowers
Der what has passed to nothingness. The
year
Has gone, and with it, many a glorious
throng
OF happy dreams. Its mark is on each
brow,
It's shadow in each heart. In its swift
1t waved its sceptre DER the beautiful,
And they are not. 1t laid its pallid hand
Upon the strong man: and the naughty
form
Is fallen, and the hashidg eye is dim.
1t trod the hall Of revelry, where thronge
The bril- ht and Joyous: and the fearful wal
or stricken ones is heard, where erst the
song
And reckless shout resounded. 1t passeC
DER
The battle plain, where sword and spear
and shield
Flashed in the light of midday: and the
strength
OF serried hosts is shivered, and the grass
Green from the soil of carnage, waves
above
The crushed and mouldered skeletons. |
came,
And faded like a wreath Of mist at eve
Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air,
1t heralded its millions to their home
In the dim land of dreams.
Remorseless Time!
Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe! wha
power
Can stay him in his silent course, or mel
His iron heart to pity? On, still on
He presses, and forever. The proud bird
The condor of the Andes, that can soa
Through heavens unfathomable depths
or brave
The fury of the northern hurricane,
And battle his plumage in the thunder
home,
Furls his broad wings at nightfall, an
sinks down
TO rest upon his mountain craig; but Tim
Knows not the weight sleep or wcarincS
And Nights deep darkness has no chat
to bind
His rushing pinon. Revolutions swee
Ger earth, like troubled visions Ger tn
breast
or dreaming sorrow; cities rise and sin
Like bubbles on tn" water; fiery isles
Spring blazing from the ocean, and 60 bac
To their mysterious caverns; mountain
10 heaven tnelr Ddlu duu pidChcHeu CiiH'
and bow
Their tall heads to the plain; new empire
| rise,
Gathering the strength OF centuries.
And rush down the Alpine Avalanche,
Startling the nations; and the very star
Yon bright and burning blazonry of Go,
Glitter awhile in their eternal depths,
And, like the Plead, lovelest Of the
train,
Shoot from their glorious spheres, an
pass away
To darkle in the trackless void. Y
Time,
Time, the tomb builder, holds his ferC
career,
Dark, stern, all .pitiless; and pauses no
Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his pal
To sit and muse, like other conqueror
Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought.
| A little one, after undergoing I'll
disagreeable operation of vaccination