Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1861-03-27
SPIRIT OF III AGE.
FOR THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE.

FUR THE SPIkl Of u AVE-
Thy early days will come but once,
Oh, bright.eyed, joyful child
Whose laugh Is echoing on the hill
And in the greenwood wild.
II is said that DIR. johnson shed tears on
reading the following line of Bcattie's:
IT'S night, and the landscape is lovely no more
We have often seen lovely landscapes
shroudcd in nights sable curtain, shutting
out all their beauties from mortal sight, while
dread silence reigncd around. So much beau
ty and loneliness, enveloped in gloom, is well
calculated 10 produce sadness IN the heart.
The thought IF it caused tears to trickle down
the checks of the illustrious cssayist and
inorslist. But the beautiful, touching lines
above came as near making us shed tears as
anything we ever read. There is no reminis-
cencc that causes us TO feel so sad as that of
our early days-not because we misspent
them-and well we might mourn on that &C.
count-but because they have passed away,
with all their pleasures, and are now with
the years beyond the food
We sometimes betake ourself to some whis-
pering grove, or TO the banks of some rip
pliHg ril, to whose mellow murmurs we can
listen, and then recall our childish amuse
meuts-our t~houghtlcss rambles in quest of
bird-ncsts-o our chascs after the silken robe
of the butterny-our highly priced bouquets
of wild pinkS and mountain daiseS, and our
delightful siestas on some sunny mound, or
meath the cool shade of some homestead oak.
We often imagine ourself becoming tired
Of childish sports, lying down carelessly on
the grass to enjoy a delicious nap, while the
innocent smiles of infancy dimpled our rudy
check, and then jumping up and running 10
our mother to imp int on her loving lips a
sweet kiss, These early days passed off in
uninterrupted pleasure, like a Journey down
a delightful stream, whose banks are covered
with fruits and flowers A thought of the
cares and sorrows of real life never once stole
over our young spirit But those early DAYS
are gone, gone o 1ever, and as they fee away
from us and the storms of life begin to pelt
us. the mcrc bright and sunny they appear.
When the beauties of love-breatbing spring
greet cur eyes, our thoughts recur in sadness
to those DAYS that are gone to return no more
The soft mournful cooling of the turtle, which
used to rejoice our young heart above al
things, and to which we would listen with
rapturous delight, now strikes our ears Will
ominous notes. And when the balmy breeze
of summer fan our warm brow, and its Joy
Gus harvests appear 10 gladden. the laborer
they remind us, oh, how strongly, of the hap
py early days, when, prattiing away, we trip
ped along after our father through the field
Of waving grain and green corn.
And when the 'm~ournful silence of autumn
whose approach, laden with rich and lusciou
fruits, was once SO delightful to us, peryade
the landscape, it reminds us how transitor
and evanescent arc all earthly things. In it
rcd scar leaf we can read the history Of ma,
written almost in golden capitals smiling i,
fancy-volatile yOuth-vigorous maEhood-
t~ottering dcciine--grim dea~th--impartial jud
matchmaking eteraity. What a history
And how soon the annals Of the first part a
completed! Verify our lives are like tt
shadow of a cloud fitting across the plain
But amid the mutability of all these thing
while the =, norama of life is swiftly passir
before our eyes, and we know it cannot
long before the curtain must fall and t
scene be closed, how blessed the assuran
that there is a state Of existence that is L
!. changeable-that there is a land where I
c~rlas;ing spring abides, and never witheri
: flowers au.id whose blooming bowers ths
/ who act we'll their part in life may repo
: and review the events and adventures Of tn
). short, but weary pilgrimagei Oh, big
!, eyed joyful youth, fix thy bright eyes on Il
= lovely land whose beauties never fade, a
0 whose treasures arc never corrupted;
thine eyes upon it while the evil days co
!. not, nor the years draw nigh, when IL
: shalt say, | have no pleasure in them
u FLORUS
q Davidson College, n. C.