Saint Paul weekly Minnesotian., 1859-01-01
THE CLOSING YEAR.
BY GEO D, PRENTICE

'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now
Is brooding, like gentle spirit, Ger
The still and pulseless 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 rest
, Like pale, spotless shroud the air is stirred,
As by mourner's sigh; and, on yon cloud,
That floats so still and placidly through heaven,
The spirits of the Seasons seem to stand,- FORM
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn
| And Winter, with his aged locks, and breathe
In mournfu cadences, that come abroad
Like the far wind harp's wild, touching vail,
| melancholy dirge Ger the dead year.
| Gone from the earth forever.
IT'S time
| For memory and for tears. Within the deep,
| Still chambers of the heart, specter 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 holy visions, that have passed away,
And left no shadow of their loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifts
The coffin lid of Hope. and JOY and Love,
And berding mournfully above the pale, Ters
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters dead fow-
Ger what has passed to nOthingness.
Has gone, and with il, many glorious threug
Of happy dreams. Its mark is on each brow,
lis shadow, IN each heart. In its swift course,
1t waved its scepter Ger the beautiful
And they are not. Il laid its pallid hand
Upon the strong man; and the naughty form
Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim.
II trod the hall of reveiry, where tbronged
The bright and JOYOUS; aud the fearful wall
Of stricken ones is heard, where erst the song
And reckless shout resounded 1t passed DER
The battle plain, where sword and spear and shield,
Flashed in the light OF mid day; and the strength
OF ser!'led hosts is shiyered and the grass
Green from the sol. of carnage waves above
The crushed and moudering skeleton. IL came,
And faded like wreath OF mist at eve;
Yet, ere it melted in the viewless ar,
IL heralded its millions 70 their home,
In the dim land of dreams.
Remorseiess Time,
Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe! what power
Can stay him in his silent course, or melt
dis iron heart 10 pity! On. still OBJ,
he presses and forever. The proud bird,
ibe condor OF the Andes, that can sOsr
Through heavens untathomaDle depths, or brave
The fury OF the northern hurricane,
And bathe his plumage in the thundsr's home
turlS his broad wing at nigh.-ali, aad sinks down
10 Fest upon his mountain crag; but fine
Knows not the weight of sleep or WEAKNESS,
And Nights deep darkness has no chain to bind
His rushing pinion
Revolutions sweep
Ger earth, ike troubled visions O. er the breast
vi dreaming sorrow cities rise and sink
Like bubbles tn the water, fiery isles
Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back
T1 ttC;r rr,-.-+Dria.. ..,r...ts. i7'r.rra-
10 Heaven their bold and black ened cliffs, and bow
Ineir tall heads to the PLAN; aud empires rise,
Gathering the streugti of l,oary centuries
And rush down. like the Alpine avalanche,
Startling tae nations; aud the very stars,
ion bright and glorious blazoury Of God,
Ghtter awhile in their eternal depths,
And, like the Pleiad, ioveest OF their train,
Shoot from their glorious Spheres and pass away
10 darEe 10 the trackless void; vet Time
Time, the tomb builder, holds his fierce career.
Dark, stern, aii-pilIless, and pauses not
Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path
10 SIT and muse, like other conquerors
Upon the fearful rum he hath wrought