Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-08-02
THE FLOOD OF YEARS.
BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

THE FLOOD OF YEARS.
BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
A Mighty Hand, from an exhaustless urn,
Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Years
Among the ma tons. How the rushing waves
Bear all before theml On their foremost edge
And there alone, is Life; the Present there
Tosses and foams and fills the air with roar
of mingled noises. There are they who toll,
And they who strive, and they who feast and
they
Who hurry to and fro. The sturdy hind
Woodman and deliver with the spade-are there,
And busy arts beside bis bench,
And pallid student with his written roll.
moment on the mounting billOw seen
The hood sweeps over them and they are gone.
There groups of jewellers, whose brows are
tvined
With roses, ride the topmost swell awhile,
The cinRng brm to brm are Whred beneath
The waves and disappear. hear the jar
OF beaten drums, and thunders that break forth
From cannon, where the advancing billow sends
Up to the sight long files of armed men,
That hurry to the charge Trough tame ana
smoke.
The torrent bears them under, whelmed and
hid,
Slayer and slain, in heaps of bloody foam.
Down go the steed and rider; the plumed chief
Sinks with his followers; the head that wears
TIL lie imperial diadem goes down beside
The felon's with cropped ear and branded cheek,
A funeral train-the torrent sweeps away
Bearers and bier mourners. By the bed
OF one who dies men gather sorrowing,
And women weep aloud: the flood rolls on;
The wall is stilled. and the sobbing group
Borne under. Hark to that shrill sudden shout
The cry of an applauding multitude
Swayed by some loud tongued orator who
yields
The living mass, as if he were its soul.
The waters choke the shout and all is still,
Lo next, a kneeling crowd and one who spreads
The hands in prayer; the engulhng wave DER
takes
And swallows them and him. sculptor yields
The chisel, and the stricken marble grows
To beauty; at his easel eager-eyed,
painter stands, and sunshine, at his touch,
Gathers upon the canvas, and life glows
A poet, as he PAGES to and fro,
Murmurs his sounding lines. Awhile they ride
The advancing billow, till its tossing crest
Strikes them and filings them under while their
tasks
Are yet unfinished See mother smile
On her young babe that smiles to her again
The torrent wrests it from her arms; she shrieks,
and weeps, and midst her tears is carried down.
A beam like that of moonlight turns the spray
To glistening pearls; two lovers, hand in hand,
Rise on the billowy swell and fondly look
Into each others eyes. The rushing food
Filings them apart; the youth goes down. the
maid,
With hands outstretched in vaiI and screaming
Waits for the next high wave to follow him.
An aged man succeeds; his bending form
Sinks slowly; mingling with the sullen stream
Clean the white locks and then are seen no
more.
10, wider grows the stream; a sea-like flood
saps earth's wild cities massive palaces
Crumble before it; fortresses and towers
Dissolve in the swift waters; populous realms
Swept by the torrent, see their ancient tribes
Engulfed and lost, their very languages
Stifed and never to be uttered more.
II | pause and turn my eyes and, looking back,
The silent Ocean Ofthe Past waste
Of waters weltering over graves, its shores
Strewn with the wreck of fleets, where mast and
hull
Drop away piecemeal; battlemented walls
Frown idly, green with moss, and ter pies stand
Unroofed forsaken by the worshipers.
There lie memorial stones, whence time has
gnawed
The craven legends, thrones of kings oerturned,
The broken affairs of forgotten gods,
Foundations ofold cities and long streets
Where never fall of human foot is heard
Upon the desoate pavement. behold
Dim glimmerings of lost jewels far within
The sleeping waters diamond, sardonyX,
Ruby and topaz, pearl and chrysolite,
AOnce glittering at the banquet on fair brows
That long ago were dust; and all around
Strewn the waters OF that silent sea,
Are whitening bridal wreaths, and glossy locks
Shorn from fair brows by loving hands, and
scrolls
Oerwritten,-haply with iond words oflove
And vows of friendship--and fair pages flung
Fresh from the printers engine. There they lie
moment and then sink away from sight.
Hook and the quick tears are in my eyes,
For behold, III every one of these,
blighted hope, separate history
Of human sorrow, telling of dear ties
Suddenly broken, dreams of happiness
Dissolved in air, and happy days, too brief,
That sorrowfully ended, and think
Eow painfully must the poor heart fave beat
In boSoms without number, as the blow
Was struck that slew their hope or broke thei
peace.
Sadly turn, and look before, where yet
The Flood must pass, and l behold mist
Where swarm disolving forms, the blood OF
Hope,
Dlvinely fair that rest on banks of flowers
Or wander among lnbOws, fading soon
And reappearing, harly giving place
10 shapes of grisly aspect, such as Fear
Molds from the idle air; where se1pents LIT
The bOny arm in menace. Further on
belt of darkness seems to bar the way,
Long, low and distant, where the Life that Is
Touches the Life to Come. The Flood of years
Rolls toward it near and nearer. 1t must pass
That dismal barrier. What is there beyond?
Hear what the wise and good have said. Be-
yOnd
That belt of darkness still the years roll on
More gently but with not less mighty sweep.
They gather up again and softly bear
All the sweet lives that late were overwhelmed
And lost to sigllt-all that in them was good,
Noble, and truly great and worthy of love
The lives Of infants and ingenious youth,
Sages and sa'itiy women who have made
Their households happy-aH are raised and
borne
By that great current in its onward sweep,
Wandering and ripping with caressing waves
Around green islands, fragrant with the breath
OF flowers hat never wither. So they pass,
From stage to stage, along the shining course
-Of that fair river broadening like sea.
AS its smooth eddies curl along their way,
They bring old friends together; hands are
clasped
In joy unspeakable; the mothers arms
Again are folded round the child she loved
And lost. Old sorrows are forgotten now,
Or but remembered to make sweet the hour
That Overpays them; wounded hearts that bled
Or broke are healed forever. In the room
Of this griefshadoWed Present there shall be
Present in whose reign no grief shall gnaw
The heart, and never shall a tender tie
Be brokenvin whose reign the eternal Change
That waits on growth and action shall proceed
With everlasting Concord hand in hand.
49, -Scribner's Monthly for August.
NONE TO CARESS.
There had been a summer shower;
roof, window, garden, were washed to
dazzling polish, and the wonderful