The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1877-12-27
THE CLOSING YEAR.
GEoR0E d. PRENTICE.

,Tis midnight's holy honr-eud silence now
1s Il, orooding, like Q gentle spirit, o'cr
Iho still and pulselcss world. k!on
the winds
The bells ELI deepest deepest tones ara s~elling. 'Tis
Of the departed year.
No funeral train
Is sweeping xpod past; yet OH the stream and
With melancholy light. the moonbesms
Like s,|R2isa R4'sal spe''s'' 'h'oua' the air is
A5 oy nouEner'e sigh; and on yon cloud.
That floats 80 still, and placidIy through
The spirita OF the seasone seem to stand
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's
solemn form,
And Winter with his eyed locks-end
In mourniul cadenccs, That come abroad
Like the Far wind.harp's wild and touchina
wall,
A melancholy dirge Ger the dead Year,
Gone from the earth forever.
For memory and for tears. Within the
Sttll chambers Of the heart spectre dim,
Time ' -
Hecsd from the tomb of ages, points its cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have passed away.
AND left no shadow Of their lovel:ness
The coffin. lid of hope and Joy and love,
And, bending mournfully above the pale,
sweet forms that slumber there, scatters
dead flowers
Ger what has passed to nothingness.
The Year
has gone, and, with 1t, many glorious
OF happy dreams. It's mark is ON each
Its shadow in each heart. In its swift
course
1t waved its sceptre DER the beautiful,
And they are not. It laid its pallid hand
upon the strong man, and the naughty
Is fallen and the flashing eye Is dim.
II trod the hall Of revelry, whore thronged
The bright and joyous, and the fearful wall
or stricken ones Is heard where e,yt the song
And reckless shout resounded. 1t passed
The batt!e;plain, where sword and spear and
Flashed d in the light of mid-day-and the
Ofserried hosts is shivercd and the grass,
Green from the soil of carnage, waves above
The crushed snd mouldering skeleton. It
came
And faded like wreath Of mist at eve;
Yet. ere it melted III the viewless air,
It heralded its millions 70 their home
In the dim land Of dreams.
Remorselcs Timel
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, OF
The fury OF The northern lur-ic:.na,
And bathe his plnmag, in the thnnder'a
home,
Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks
To rest upon his mountain-crog. But Time
Knows not the weight Of sleep or weari-
And nights deep darkness has no chain to
bind
His rushing pinion. Revolutions sweep
Ger earth, like troubled Visions Ger the
breast
OF dreaming sorrow; cities rise and sink
Like bubbles on the water; fiery isles
Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back
70 their mysterious caverrs; mountains
rear
To heaven their bald and blackcned cliffs,
and bow
Their tall heads to the plain: new empires
rise,
Gathering the strength 81 horny centuries,
And rush dom IKE the Alpine avalanche,
Startling the nations; and the very stars.
Yon bright and burning blazonry Of God,
Glitter awhile IL their eternal depths,
And, like ths Pleind, loveliest of their train,
Shoot from their glorious spheres and pass
away,
To darkle In the trackleos-yoid yet Time,
Time, the tomb-builder, holds his fierce
career,
Dark, stern. ell-pitiless, and pauses not
To sit and m muse. like other ss conouerors s A'N'
Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought.