Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1879-12-17
THE IRON GATE.

Read by Oliver Wendell Holmes at breakfast
given in sonor Of the SEVENTEEN anniversary OF
his btrtu
Where is tais patriarch you are kindly greeting?
Not unfam liar to my ear his name,
Nor yet unknew" to many Joyous meeting
In days long vanished-is he still the same,
Or changed by years. forgotten and forgetting,
DuIl-eared, dia-sighted, slow of speech and
thought,
Still Ter the sad, degenerate, present fretting,
Where all goes wrong and nothing as 1t oughtf
Old age, the gray beard-well indeed l know him
Shrunk, tottering, bant of aches and ills the
In ser ocon, story. fsole. picture, poem
Oft have met him from my earliest day.
In my old Ksop toiling with his bundle
His load of sticks politely asking death
Who comes when called for-would he lug or trun'
His fagot for him? He was scant of BREATH
And sad Ecclesiastes, or the pre- acher"-
Has ne net stamped the image my soul
In that last chapter, where the WORKOUT teacher
Signs DER the lCoseDed cord-the broken bowl
Yes, long indeed I've known him at a distance,
And now nay lifted doorlatch shows him here
take his shriveled hand without resistance,
And fnd him smiling as his step draws near.
What though of gilded baubles he bereaves US,
Dearto the heart of youth, to manhood's prime
Think OF the calm he brings, the wealth he leaves
The boarded spoils the legacies of time.
Affairs once flaming, still with incense fragrant,
Passion s uneasy nursicgs rocked asleep;
Hopes anchor faeter, wild desire less vagrant,
Lilies flow less noisy, bat the stream-how deep
sha, as the silver cord gets worn and slender,
ITS lghtned task-work tugs with lessening strain,
Hands get more hopeful, voices grow more tender
Soothe with their softened tones the slumbrous
brain.
Youth longs and Manhood strives, but Age remem-
bers-
Sits by the raked-up ashes of the past;
Spreads its thin hands above the whitening embers
That warm It's creeping life blood till the last.
AS Oh the sauzy wings of fancv flying
From ssme far orb, I track our watery sphere
Home of the struggling, suffering, doubling,
The silvered globule seems glistening tear.
But nature lends her mirror of illusion
To win from saddening scenes our age-dimmed
And misty day dreams blend in sweet confusion
To wintery landscapes and the summer skies.
SO when the iron portal shuts behind us
And life forgets us in its noise and whirl,
Visions that summed the glaring MONDAY find us,
And giimmering starlight strews the gates of
pearl.
come not here your morning hour to sadden
A limping pilgrim leaning on his staff
who have never deemed it sin to gladden.
The vale of sorrow with a wholesome laugh.
II word of mine auother's gloom has frightened.
Through my dumb lips the hesven-sent message
came,
IF hand of mine another's task has Gghtened,
1t felt the guidance that it dares not claim.
But oh my gentle sisters OIL my brothers,
These thick-sown kes hint of tolls rele
These feeble pulses bid me leave to others
The tasks once MISUNDERSTANDING asks for
peace.
Time claims his tribute; silence now IL golden;
Let ne not vex the too long suffering Tyre;
Though 10 yoar love untiriug still beholden,
The CURES tells me-cover up the fire.
And now with grateful smile aud accents cheerful,
And warmer heart THAI look word can tell,
IN simplest phrase-these trait'rous eyes are
fearful
Thanks-brothers, sisters, children; and farewell.