The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1856-11-22

pointed snd,
Till dust. at last with kindred dust within the
shaios blends:
Forever as The globe along her starry cycle rolls,
Within The soul Times hollow bell SOME shattered
idol tolls,
And though stli Him, who sits on high, whose
golden Throne around,
Shine Seraphin and Chcrubim, tho beautiful and
crownd,
There no change, ny funeral train, no sad array
of death,
Though all the universe ut once groan out its
dying breath
With us below while yet the winds ,hro' heavens
blue arches range
There must lie toars and breaking hearts aud
WEAKNESS and change.
Where my friends where nov are gone the
dear familiar faces,
That held within my heart, well, their high and
holy places,
Whose eyes were as the early light upon the
opening flower,
AS roodbns to the rowing bee, as music in the
bower
What cloud has overcast their eyes, why have they
learned 20 range,
Or sit that 60 forget-O, is it that change?
All, have lived to feel the power, the ivy touch
VI lime
Across my heart his shadow fails, upon my locks
his rhine;
Mine is not how the fresh young he art i. WAS in
days agone
While on youths purple mountains danced the
kindling of he d .wn;
Where nro my friends, where now are gone The
dear familiar faces,
That nobly held within my heart their green and
golden places
Soune DER the dark tcmprstuous wave their distant
way are taking,
some sleep the srep that knows no dresm, no
morning and 10 waking,
And somo, who walk among tho flowers, survive
with hearts as cold
As those shove whose fnsl throb the clashny bell
has TOLD;
And some, whose love still burns for me, arc eur
dcrcd FROM my eye
by Leagues on league, the swallows wing might
scarcely dare to try;
Far back along the garnersi aold. Of the gray
reaper Time,
Like birds that seek their last years most within
some distant cline,
Thought wandcrs Ger the lonely shrincs to sleep
less nleNloTy ucHT.
And from their ustre wipes the rust of many
burning tear.
Around me rise the sylvan hills in rich familiar
green,
And onward stretch tho grassy sopes with shining
brooks between,
Still there the broad old chestnut CLEANS in whose
luxuriant shade,
l sought, at morn, the smooth, brown nuts and
gayy laughed aud played;
They come, they come, the merry band the young
the light of heart,
Beneath whose feet, along the turf the blue eyed
yiolc,s start;
And one there stsnds around whose lips the youth.
full graees play,
More bright than smiles the rose Of June, mere
beautiful than May,
The hazel dell and wllowy nook return upon my
Slew'
With all their blessed memories of sunlight, birds
and dew;
Again there steals across my brow that thrilling
sense ofspring.
Such as alone Northern hills and Nor hern
brcc.cs bring;
The peach and apple blooms hail With that up
gushing joy,
Which only stirs the veins Of one, and he the
dreaming boy;
Upon the purple bough | mark tho robins well.
wrought nest,
And straining DER tho rim two bright eyes and
ruddy breast;
Afar like seas Of sunny gold tho meadow lands
extend,
Whose bands of slad.eyed bu,ter-cups with frnged
daisies bend
Once more with crimsoncd hands bend Ger h.
lush straw berry beds,
Amidst the perfume floating up from soft, rich
clover heads,
Adown the vale long, twinklng swaths lie s,retcL
ed in green array,
Ard crowded barns are breathing forth the seen,
ofgarnsred hay;
Now o'cr the lea, LOW up the Hill, rolls on the
And lu,y scyihes arc flashing out amidst the
bending grain;
Whom FROM the school. l. light OF heart once more
have homeward run,
A mothers tender smile i. mine, sisters ,ivery
tone;
All, whittier float the shadows swift that sweep the
autumn lands,
And whittier fades the name that's traced along
tho ocean sands
sometimes ycarn to know it, when that awful day
shall rise,
Whose trump shall rouse the shrouded dead to pass
the Great Assize.
Our God will bring the buried Pact, to day i'm
mortal. back
With all tho flowers and stars thxt hung above its
winding track
And with those stars and blossoms crown the holy
and the best,
As through the golden gate they pass to theil
eternal rest;
Those blessed hours are With the dead; those dear
est forms are gene,
And now their sad, rcproachfui ghosts across my
memory moan
And some who still are with the flowers to mo are
dead or cold
As arc the brsws oer which tho bell its brazen
dirge has rolled;
md some tho live and love me still nre sundcred
from my eye
by leagues on leaguas the swallows wing might
scarcely dare to Try;
Gone are the dear young friends that roved I
merry band with me,
Tho clover dell the singing brook, tho soft and
shaver lea;
They haunt the sunshine Of the day they rise upo'
my dreams
With all the glory of the Pust, the murmur of it'
streams,
Through the long night within my soul the
mournful rigis keep.
And FROM my eyeids chase away the do why fn
gcred sleep
9, ! will weave cypress wreath for those vain
mourn