Gold Hill daily news. [volume] (Gold Hill, N.T. [Nev.]) 1863-1882, 1866-12-29
THE DYING YEAR
BY n @. BROOKS

4uOu QGnOAAtG oha AyAA9
Emblem Of transitory man,
Like thine, is bounded to . span;
It seems as but a little day
Since nature smiled upon thy oirtn'
And Spring came forth in fair array,
To dance upon the joyous earth.
Sad alteration T! now how lone,
How verdureless is natures breast,
Where ruin makes his empire know,
In autumn's yellow vesture dres''d;
The sprightly bird, whose carol sweet
Broke on the breath Of early day,
The summer flowers she loved TO greet; .
Tho bird, the flowers, o! where arc they {
Thou desolate and dying year!
Yet lovely in thy lifelessnegs
As beauty itretch'd upon the bier,
In deaths clay-cold and dark caress;
There's loneliness in thy decay, -,
Which breathes, which fingers on thee still
Like memory's mild and cheering ray
Beaming upon the night OF i'll.
Yet, yet the radiance is not gone,
Which shed a richness DER the scene,
Which smiled upon the golden dawn,
When skies were brilliant and serene;
o! still = melancholy smile
Cleans upon Natures aspect fair,
To charm the eye o little while,
Ere ruin spreads his mantle there!
Thou desolats and dying year!
Since time entwined thy vernal wreath,
How often love hath shed the tear,
And knelt beside the bed Of death;
How many hearts, that lightly sprung
When Joy was blooming but to die,
Their finest chords by death unstrung,
Have yielded life's expiring sigh.
And, pillow'd low beneath the clay,
Have ceased to melt, to breathe, to burn,
The proud, the gentle, and the gay,
Gnther'd unto the Wondering urn:
While freshly aow'd the frequent tear
For love bereft, affection fed;
For all hat were our blessings here,
The loved, the lost, the sainted dead!
Thou desolate and dying year!
The musing spirit finds in thee
Lessons, impressive and serene,
or deep and stern morality;
Thou teachest how the germ Of youth,
Which blooms in beings dawning day,
Planted by nature, rear'd by truth,
Winters, like thee, in dark decay.
Promise Of youth fair as the form
or Heavens benign and golden bow,
Thy smiling arch begirds the storm,
And sheds a light on every wo,
Hope wakes for thee, and to her tongue
A tone of melody is given,
As il her magic voice were strung
With the empyreal FIRE Of heaven.
And love which never can expire,
Whose origin is from on high,
Throws DER thy morn a ray Of fire,
From the pure fountains Of the sky;
That ray which CLOVIS and ~brightens still
Unchanged, eternal and divine;
Where seraphs own its holy thrill,
And bow before its cleaning shrine.
Thou dcsolate and dying year!
Prophetic OF our final fall;
Thy buds are gone, thy leaves are scar;
Thy beauties shrouded in the pail
And all the garniture that shed
A brilliancy upon thy prime,
Hath like a morning vision fed
Unto the expanded grave Of time.
Time! Time! in thy triumphal flight,
How all life's phantoms fleet away;
Thy smile OF hope, and young delight,
Fame's meteor.beam, and Fancy'siray
They fade; and on the heaying tide,
Rolling its stormy waves afar,
Are borne the wreck Of human pride,
The broken wreck Of Fortunes war.
There, in disorder, dark and wild,
Are seen the fabrics once so high;
Which mortal vanity had piled
As emblems Of eternity!
And deem'd the stately piles, whose form
Frown'd in their majesty sublime,
Would stand mistaken by the storms
That gather'd round the brow Of Time.
Thou desolate and dying year!
Earth's brightest pleasures fade like thine
Like evening shadows disappear,
And leave the spiritto repine.
The stream OF life, that used to pour
It's fresh and sparkling waters on.
While Fate stood watching on the shore,
And Numbered oil the moments gone
Where hath the morning splendour flown
Which danced upon the crystal stream
Where are the joys to childhood known,
When life was an enchanted dream?
developed in the s~tarless night
Which destiny hath o%verspread;
Enrolld upon that traekless flight
Where the d~eath-wing Of time hath sped
o! thus hath life it's even-tide,
OF sorrow, loneliness, and grief;
And thus, Invested Of its pride,
It withers like the yellow leaf;
o! such is life's autumnal bower,
When plunder'd OF its summer bloom;
And such is life's autumnsl hour,
Which heralds man unto the tomb!