94
CLOSE OF THE YEAR.
And Nature has no magic to restore
The glory of the spirit's shadowed gleams.
The glory of the spirit's shadowed gleams.
Scattered and broken on life's desert wide,
The soul's best gems, its brightest treasures
And memories of joy, and love, and pride
Lie dim upon the bosom's shattered shrine:
We gaze into the future, but a shade
Is on its visions, they are not so blest
And beautiful as those the year has laid
Within the heart's deep sepulchre to rest.
The soul's best gems, its brightest treasures
And memories of joy, and love, and pride
Lie dim upon the bosom's shattered shrine:
We gaze into the future, but a shade
Is on its visions, they are not so blest
And beautiful as those the year has laid
Within the heart's deep sepulchre to rest.
The music of our being's rushing stream
Is growing sad and sadder day by day,
And life is but a troubled fever-dream
That soon must vanish from our souls away;
But when this wild and tearful dream is past,
The mounting spirits of the pure will rove
Above the cloud, the whirlwind, and the blast,
In the bright Eden of immortal love.
Is growing sad and sadder day by day,
And life is but a troubled fever-dream
That soon must vanish from our souls away;
But when this wild and tearful dream is past,
The mounting spirits of the pure will rove
Above the cloud, the whirlwind, and the blast,
In the bright Eden of immortal love.
