Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1872-12-21
THE CLOSING YEAR.
BY GEO. j. PRENTICE

BY GEO. j. PRENTICE
III IutInIghys holy hour. aud III Ecr now
l. Jroodiug, like gentle ,pirit, o'rr
I Ths stiu and pul~eic>- w1rid. HaEA. on
the winds,
The brlts deep TONES are swelling. a. The
knsli
Of the departed y-ar No funeral train
Is sweeping past; yei, on the ,tresm and
wood,
With melancholy light, the moouhesai, re--l
Like = pale, sp0tic~s shroud; Tie AIR i
stirred.
A 10y a nourncr's sish; and, on yaa cloud
! That floats 20 ,ti.l and placidly through
heaven.
The spirit Of the Seasons seem 70 stand,
Young Spring, bright summer, Auiumn's
solemn form.
And win'er, with hi, aged laek.-auJ
breathe
In mouniul eadence,. that come abroad
Like the FAR wiud-harp's wild. tou, hing
wall,
A meIaneholly dirge O'er the dead year.
Gone from the esrth forever.
lis \ time
For memory and Tor lesr- Within The
deep.
still chambers Of the heart, 4 speeter dim,
Whose tones are like the wizard voice Of
time
Heard from the tomb OF sge-, points H. cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions, that have passed sway,
AndIe no Shadow Of their loneliness
On the dead waste Of life. The specter lin,
The coffin-lid Of Hope, and Joy, and Love,
And bending mournfully above she pale,
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatter,
dead flowers
O'er what has passed to nothinguess.
The ysar
Has gone, and with it, many a glorious
throng
OF happy dreams. Its mark j, or each brow,
Its shadows, in each heart. In its swift
course,
IL waved It's Scepter DER the beautiful;
And they are not. It laid its pailid hand
Upon the strong man: and the naughty form
Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim.
1t trod the hall of revelry, where thronged
The bright and Joyous; and the tearfdl wall
or stricken ones is heard, where erst the
song
And reckless shout resOUnded. II passed DER
The battle-plain, where sword, and spear,
and shield,
Flashed in the light cf midday; aud the
strength
or serried hosts is shivered, and the grass,
Green from. the soil of carnage, waves above
The crushed and mouldering skeleton. 1t
came,
And faded like wreath OF mist at eve;
Yet ere it melted in the viewless air,
II heralded its millions to their home,
In the dim land of dreams.
RemOrseless Time.
Fierce spirit Of the glass and scythe What
power
Can stay him in his silent course, or melt
His iron heart TO pity! On, still on,
He presses, and forever. The proud BIRD,
The condor of the Andes, that can soar
Through heavens Unfathomable depths, or
brave
The fury Of the northern hurricane,
And battle his plumage in the thunder's
home,
Furls his broad wing at night fall, and sinks
down
To rest upon the mountain crag; but Time
Knows not the weight OF sleep or WEAKNESS,
And nights deep darkness has no chain ia
bind
Hi, rushing piniou.
Revolutions sweep
Der the earth, like troubled visions Ger
the breast
Of dreaming sorrow; cities rise and sink
Like bubbles on the water; fiery isles
Spring blazing from che ocean, and 20 back
To their mysterious caverns; mountains
roar
To heaveR their bold aud blackened rlihs,
and bow
Their tall heads TO the plain; and empires
rise,
Gathering the strength Of hoary centuries,
And rush down, like the Alpine avalanche,
Starting the nation; and the very stars,
Yon bright and glorious blazonry of God,
Glitter awhile in their eternal depths,
And, like the Pleiad, loveliets of their train.
Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass
away
To darkle in the trackleSs void; yet Time,
Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce
career,
Dark, stern, all pitiless, and pauses not
Amid the nighty wrecks that strew his
path,
To sit and muse, like other conquerors,
Upon the srful ruin he hath wrought.