Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1871-09-14
Vanished Years.

Who can look back upon the vanished
years without a sigh of regret for the
many beautiful remembered joys that the
years now vanished brought to us, but
can never return to us again?
To one, it is the memory of a child's
caressing fingers, straying over the face
and hands; of clinging arms about the
neck, and the pattering of tiny slippered
over h stairs or down the hall. 1t is
the music of a sweet, innocent voice,
floating in ripping laughter, or precious
baby-words from the past along the
vanished years into the tide of the
present.
To another, sweet, loved faces float
suddenly from the midst of the vanished
years. As if h daisies grew mo- between
the closed eyes and our own, they meet
us again with the same never forgotten
glance of tenderness, and we ask of the
vanished years if they have given back
to us u own or whether the spirits of
the air take form sometimes, only to
vanish again, leaving us only our memo
ries. Half-forgotten songs float dreamily
back to us, and the memory of a woman's
smile or manly voice has thrilled many
a heart with an intensity of emotion that
only a presence from the vanished years
could bring.
Youth, beauty, love and happiness all
belong to the beautiful vanished years /;
n looking forward brings O the salts
faction that we find in silent, sweet COM
munion with the past.
The joys, the happiness hat has been
ours, is ours still, Tor faithful memory is
ever going backward to the vanished
that have been.
But in looking forward we see only
what may be, and past experience tells
us that hopes fail. Perhaps there is
nothieg in the past of a person who has
reached the quiet, middle years of life
that so brings mingled sadness and smiles
as the recollectians of youths first love.
How real it all seems then; and yet
how is the vision changed.
The girl that seemed an angel hen is
only an ordinary mortal nov, faded and
world-weary, like the boy who thought
himself a man, and claimed the manly
right of wOrshipping every angel III
maidenly guise.
And from among the relics of the de-
parted years is drawn the curl of shining
hair that was such Il taliSman then.
1t is just as bright, just as golden now,
and it coils itself about your fingers just
as prettily, reminding us in its almost
animated curling of the coquetish grace
of its wearer.
But, alasl the years in vanishing have
stolen from it its talismanic powers, and
IO-udy IL - OHIy Il 1Och Oh WOIlan ) Hall,
shorn before the silver threads began to
linger in sad, silent tokens of the cares
and WEAKNESS Of the earth-lite.
And a thought of silver hairs brings us
back to the present, and glanciug in the
mirror we find them plentilully bestowed
upon ourselves, and smile as we wonder
if the girl to whom that curl belonged
has kept that shining lock of bright
chestnut hair we gave her il exchange.
Only the vanished years can tell.
Do they tell us of q broken VOW that
made w lives a failure?
Why, then, did not that golden hair
rest forever in happy security against the
breast whereon it leaned when a lovers
hand severed the shining curl?
All! we gather only the beautiful
memories from the vanished years! Our
t~reacheries and dcceitfulness we consign
to the past, and say "let the dead past
bury its dead" and clasp more closely
the sweet cherished memories that were
exquisite in the reality.
How sacredly we treasure them! How
we linger with them! But lingering
with the vanished years brings us to
silent grass-grown graves and messy
tomb-stones, and thence to tears.
So we fold away the treasured memo
ries, and know that tho the straying
baby-tfngers may nevermore stray over
our faces, hands and hair, nor the tiny
feet make music over the stairs and down
the hall, nor white-haired age grow
young again, nor broken vows be re-
newed, nor anything belonging to the
vanished years return to us, we are hast
ening on to them. Earth life is only a
shadow of the substance that the second
life affords.
Eternity is before us, and who shall
say that in the eternal years all shall not
be restored to us.