Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1873-07-12
For the Union and American.
PAST AND FUTURE.
''7ke Past is past; the Future, mystery"
BY CLARENCE GREENWOOD.

"TEe Past is past; the Future, 8sgSteTy."
BY CLARENCE GREENWOOD.
Yea, ..the Past is past;'' and gone forever,
With its buried hopes, forgotten vows,
And mixed throng of sad and happy memries
Like some sweet, melancholy dirge,
Whose dying cadences linger with us
Long after tongue, and lutte, and harp, are still
Filling the soul with pensive melody,
As sweet as the smile Of love in dream
So is the recollection of joys past.
How the mind wanders DER the pathway of life:
Now pausing at some oasis in the
Desert waste, and quafiing of the limpid
Life-givlng waters; then, by the wayside,
Culling flowers, earth's sweetest, tenderest
Chfldren-more glorious than Solomon
Anon, hstning TO music, seraphic,
BY lips and hands now hush'd, alas, in DEATH
Or to the carols of the joyous birds,
''The sweetest warblers OF the groye'-than
ain beings endless CHAIN" lower, tits true,
But without sin!
How my eyes melt to tears,
AND my heart swells with sweet, melancholy
Emotions, when 1 fain would attempt life's
RetrOspection Where now are the bright hopes
Noble aspirations, and high resolves of youth
And blithe young manhood? Echo answers
where?
Where the alluring prospects, enchanting
Views, and bright day dreams Of young ambi-
ton,
Which, radiant as the rainbow splendors,
Encircled LIES early morning like
Halo Of glory? Not faded, but toned
To something like sObes reality.
Thus time, the patient, unerring teacher,
Dispels the illusions OF thoughtless youth,
And tWines about the brow Of age LESSONS
Of sage experience,
Where are the friends
Who began, with us, the journey of life?
Some have, long since, by the way-side fallen;
Others, like leaves of autum, been scatter'd;
Others still, though in the evening OF life,
Remain, our fellow trav'lers to the tomb.
50 time bears us onward, like the current
or some mighty river, to our destined
State in the dim and misty hereafter,
That mysterious future, TO which all
Alike are tending by decree of Heav'n.
Tell me, o my soul, why upon the sea
OF time I'm cast, to be buffetted by
Wind and wave till the storm of life be DER?
Whence the gain or pleasure, "a God or MANI
True now and then, I've glimpses of sunshine
Peering through the clouds, lighting up the
gloom;
But, oh, SO much bitter-so little sweet!
Kindred and loved ones, tell me, where are
they?
Some lis beneath the sod, sleeping the sleep
That knows no waking, It'll the judgment morn,
When the arch-angels trumpet shall summon
Buried millions to the bar of God.
Others hnger in the journey of life,
Awaiting the inevitable doom
dust thou art, and TO dust thou shalt return"
With me It's a time for mem'ry and tears!
or life, I'm weary; ''would that might Sleep"
why, my soul, am 80 sad and lonely?
I've Wept such bitter tears Of repentance
Then, looked up and smil dcomplacentlyl
Such hypTocrites, are we all, we'd make the
world think we're happy, while fell despair
brOOds
Der the heart like Pluto DER Erebus.
b ut still Pm sad So truly I'm a child
" sorrow-but I'll complain not; o God,
Thy viii, not mine, he done
Thus l feel, while
Standing upon the ideal isthmus,
Which separates the past from the future,
And looking backward through the dim vista
Of bygOne years of LIES early morning,
When my frail barque, launch'd on the stream
Of time, sfa H.-.-...-..
Began its voyage TO f'ths undiscovered
Country, from whose bourne to travler returns
Turning 10 the future, all is mystery,
Indefinable as eternity!
Though finite can't compass inhnity,
Nor peer into endless futurity,
And grace Wen trust in thy loving kindness,
Confident that thou hast done all things well;
That tnOu wilt do for us even more than
We ourselves can think TO ask thee TO do;
And that thou wilt give to us such knowledge
OF thyself and the world to comeas win
Rebound to our eternal good, and thy
Infinite pleasure. Teach me, then, Father
Almighty, so TO direct my footsteps
In the ioUTneyings Of this lower life,
That, when my brief day Of mortality
Shall have licked out its last moment # time,
may lay me on the death couch, like as
The prattliBg infant falls to peaceful dreams
In the arms of maternal leye fearing
No harm, and breathe out my life sWeetly three.
JEFFERsONVILLE, Texas, j une u, 1872.