The Year's Goal
He is too full of grace to deal
A breathless road that never swerves;
But all things turn and pause and wheel,
In restful, joyful curves.
A breathless road that never swerves;
But all things turn and pause and wheel,
In restful, joyful curves.
Days end and turn where nights begin;
The months whirl round through snow and glow,
And lay their lesser rings within
The year's encircling flow.
The months whirl round through snow and glow,
And lay their lesser rings within
The year's encircling flow.
And through these phases manifold,
Round its glad circuit wings the year;
And links the old, the new, the old,
Within its clasping sphere.
Round its glad circuit wings the year;
And links the old, the new, the old,
Within its clasping sphere.
And half we feel the sweep of time
Catch up the years and hurry by;
But thought falls back, too faint to climb
The circles of the sky.
Catch up the years and hurry by;
But thought falls back, too faint to climb
The circles of the sky.
Dream, if thou wilt, of outmost reach,
The motion of sublimer rounds,
The flight of hopes surpassing speech
And life that knows no bounds;
The motion of sublimer rounds,
The flight of hopes surpassing speech
And life that knows no bounds;
But 'mid these orbits dim and great,
Lose not, my soul, the year's embrace,
Its closeness to thy low estate,
Its needful resting-place.
Lose not, my soul, the year's embrace,
Its closeness to thy low estate,
Its needful resting-place.
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