This page has been validated.
ANNIVERSARY POEM.
195
Like violets that push the growing leaf
Against the lingering lines of April snows:
These joys were of the Nameless—still are ours,
And shall be till we lose the breath of flowers,
And find, on arctic plains, our long repose.
Against the lingering lines of April snows:
These joys were of the Nameless—still are ours,
And shall be till we lose the breath of flowers,
And find, on arctic plains, our long repose.
XXIII.
While we the Year's chrysalides unlace,
And all their silken threads around us creep,
What living memories start from shrouded sleep!
Upon whose broad, gold-dusted wings we trace
The penciled curves of many a pictured scene,—
Sun-copied hills, the river's rippling sheen,
And the soft hues of many a shadowy place.
While we the Year's chrysalides unlace,
And all their silken threads around us creep,
What living memories start from shrouded sleep!
Upon whose broad, gold-dusted wings we trace
The penciled curves of many a pictured scene,—
Sun-copied hills, the river's rippling sheen,
And the soft hues of many a shadowy place.
XXIV.
For when the days were in their rosiest bloom
We shook away the dust of city marts;
And with a happy sense of lightened hearts,
Let fall awhile our heavy weights of gloom:
Right princely was our welcome to the wood,
The green-roofed paths, the valley and the flood,
And to the generous board and tasteful room!
For when the days were in their rosiest bloom
We shook away the dust of city marts;
And with a happy sense of lightened hearts,
Let fall awhile our heavy weights of gloom:
Right princely was our welcome to the wood,
The green-roofed paths, the valley and the flood,
And to the generous board and tasteful room!
