34
THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR.
With fancy's eye, rich vales, as beautiful
As those through which in childhood's hours we roved
And there, joys, hopes, and loves, as fresh and bright
As those which sprang and perished by our side,
Seem flitting in the distance, wild and free,
And sweetly beckoning us to where they dwell,
Like a young troop of Fairies.
As those through which in childhood's hours we roved
And there, joys, hopes, and loves, as fresh and bright
As those which sprang and perished by our side,
Seem flitting in the distance, wild and free,
And sweetly beckoning us to where they dwell,
Like a young troop of Fairies.
A New Year,
A new, unsullied year, is ours. Its page
Is sealed; we know not what is folded there;
We know not whether joy or agony
We know not whether life or death, is writ
Within the fearful scroll, but 'tis enough
To know the gift is God's. Within our breasts,
Amid love's blasted buds, joy's faded wreaths,
And hope's pale withered garlands, one bright flower
Is still uncrushed, undimmed, the holy flower
Of Faith divine. We feel, we know that He,
Who hath preserved us 'mid the thousand ills,
The countless dangers lurking in our paths,
A new, unsullied year, is ours. Its page
Is sealed; we know not what is folded there;
We know not whether joy or agony
We know not whether life or death, is writ
Within the fearful scroll, but 'tis enough
To know the gift is God's. Within our breasts,
Amid love's blasted buds, joy's faded wreaths,
And hope's pale withered garlands, one bright flower
Is still uncrushed, undimmed, the holy flower
Of Faith divine. We feel, we know that He,
Who hath preserved us 'mid the thousand ills,
The countless dangers lurking in our paths,
