Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1913-12-26

and the question comes up with spontaniety,
What of all this to me?"
In a country as ours where ones great
grandfather was about the earliest record,
time does not impress us. 1t seems If every
thing began yesterday In old lands whose his
tory goes back centuries upon centuries the prog
of time seems very impressive.
But say what we will, 1t is our orsa life that IL
the most impressive, and the gears stretch out
behind us the memory of our oiSn youth makes
deepe~ impression this New Years day than
all the written history of tae world than all the
traditions of all the races, than all the records Of
the rocks. The individual souls days like this
naturally divide into two classes. On New Years
day youth looks to the future and age to the past
To the young all the paths before the feet look
rose-strewn and smooth So be it. Let the eye
brighten 1t feasts in anticipation on the good
things that must lie everywhere to the end. YOUTH
Youth. The time when there can be mo doubt of
any mystery save that lifes longings and its
hopes could die" Let youth dream on of roses
without thorns, of bright days without cloud.
of hopes that always find fulhllment, of ambitions
always fully satisfied All we need do for youth is
leave 1t alone with its dreams, its hopes its am
billions. With these it will take care of itself And
let not age, whatever the years may have brought.
say a word, shake head or give a dubious look
to disDel the glory of the dream, the brightness
of the hope the vaulting nature of the ambition.
Time will do enough of this So let youth have its
undimmed joy today
But age looks back. The fires of ambition are
dimmed They all burnt-out ashes now. The
hopes that buoyed us up so safely in youth have
found what there is OF fulllment all too little of
disappointment all too much. We dream no longer
Of joys to come, but of grief that has strewed
the path along which we have come. The smell
OF the woods in early spring when the first volets
bloom in the heat OF summer when all is like
the spice islands, or in fall when decay is in the
fallen leaves or in winter when death absorbs
ALL no matter to the aged, all call back to days
long gone. We walk alone now, and all along Tie
far road lie mounds where we stood and conhded
to the breast of Mother Earth so many that walk
ed with us in the heydey of our life. The mother
whose soft touch banished pain, the father whose
ripe experience taught us where to walk. the
brothers and sisters who our paymates in
those days when the world was all sunshine.
Then when the wing of love ceased to brood over
us in the paternal nest and went forth to
create new family under the banner of love- how
day like this calls up all the joy and tenderness
OF these days of earl. manhood and womanhoodi
So we dream of the long-lost clasp OF the hand of
lover or friend; SO we dwell in tender memory
on all those days Of hope, of Joy, of expectancy
and fruition. We feel that all will soon be over
This may be our last New Years day on this earth
where We have passed so many eventful years.
When those who are left again ring out the old
ring in the new, may not be here to ring
either chime of bells. So we sit and dream and
call up from the treasure-house of memory the
faces, words and deeds of those who walked with
us In the days of our youth and of our prime But
we would not be gone yet. He is less than man
who thus can sit and dream, think of his de.
parture, and not cast one longing lingering look
behind We must go to the poets to interpret
this life to u.s. Not to the great of the world
but to those whose deals with the common
things Of life: to Burns and his banks and braes
o bonnie Doom" his Highland Mary" to the man
who wrote Home, Sweet Home" to the poet of
the poor slave in the south and his "Suwanee
Aver we can go far back in the ages and all
the time the common heart of a common humanity
was the same as now King David would take
the aged Barzlai to the capital to the court
but the plain man of the people would be left
alone to dream the last dreams of life in peace.
Let me go back that may die in mine own city,
And after death be buried by the side of my IA
Their and of my mother" Oh! the tenderness of
old agei There are no fierce passions left Am
bition builds no more castles in the air Just to
DO let dream of the days that gone, OF the
early home and all it contained, and then lie down
with the companions of youth and for centuries
and centuries, throughout the great eternity. let
our ashes mingle with those we loved so we'll