The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1902-12-26
1luetrg,
THE CLOSING YEAR.

'ris mdnghts holy hOur-and silence now
Is brooding like gentle Spirit Ger
The still and pulseless world. Hark! Oh the winds
The bells deep tones are swelling-'tis the knell
Of the departed year. No funeral train
Is sweeping rast,-yet, on the stream and woSd.
With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest
Like a pale spotless sh roud, the air is stirred
As by mourners sigh-and on yon cloud,
That floats so still and placdy through heaven,
The spirits of the seasons seem to stand,-
Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn
form,
And Winter with his aged locks, and breathe,
In meurnful c1dences that come abroad
Like the far W nd harp's wild and touching wall.
Gone from the earth forever.
IT'S time
For memory and for tears. Within the deep,
Still chambers of the hearts, spectre dim,
Whose tones were Ike the wizard voice of Time,
Heard 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 loveliness
On the dead waste of life. That spectre lifs
The cotfin-lid of Hope. and Joy, and Love;
And bending mournfully above the pale
Sweet forms that sumber there. SC tiers dead
flowers
Ger what has passed to nothingness. The year
Has gone, and with it many glorious throng
or happy dreams Its mark is on each brow,
Its shadow in each heart. In its swift course,
1t waved its sceptre DER the beautiful
And they arc not. 1t laid its pallid hand
Upon the strong man and the naughty form
Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim.
1t trod the hall of revery, where thronged
The bright and joyous-and the fearful vail
OF stricken ones is heard, where erst the song
And reckless shout resourded. 1t passed DER
The battle plain where sword and spear and shield
Flashed in the light of md-day-and the strength
OF 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 vewless air,
1t 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, OF brave
The fury of the northern hurricane,
And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home,
Furls his broad wings at nightfall, and sinks down
To rest upon his mountain crag-but time
Knows not the weight Of sleep or wearness,
And nights deep darkness has no chain to bind
His rushing pinion. Revolutions sweep
O'ur earth, liks troubled visions DER the breast
OF dreaming sorrow; cities rise and Sink
l. Ike bubbles on the water; fiery isles
Spring blaz ing from the ocean. and 60 back
To their mysterious caverns mountains rear
To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow
Their tai heads to the plain; new empires rise,
Gathering the strength OF hoary centuries,
And rush down like the Alpine avalanche.
Startling the nations; and the very stars.
Yon bright and burning blazonry Of God,
Glitter awhile in their eternal depths,
And like the Pleiad loveliest of their train,
Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass away
To darkle in the trackle>s void; yet time,
Time, the tomb-buider, holds his fierce career,
Dark, stern, all pitess, and pauses not
Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path,
To sit and muse, like other cOnquerers,
Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought.
George D. Prentice, in Alexandria Gazette.