Poems (Griffith)/The Close of the Year
The Close of the Year.
ANOTHER and another! 'Tis the still And solemn hour of midnight. Not a sound Of mortal life disturbs the awful calm That rests upon the dim and sleeping earth. 'Twould seem as if a wizard spell were laid Upon the winds, the woods, the waves, the streams For all the thousand voices that are wont, In this deep hour of darkness and of dreams, To weave their low, mysterious cadences In one wild chant of spirit-melody, Are silent now, and there is naught to tell The ear that Nature lives. The holy stars, The watchers of the night, are burning faint, Like funeral lamps; the dark cloud-shadows rest Upon the still earth like a pall; the hills And mountains stand like mourners; the tall trees, Leafless ,red solemn, bend their tops like plumes Above the bier; and lo! a countless throng Of wan and ghastly phantoms seem to come From the dim realm of shadows, to convey The Old Year to his burial.
He is gone!He breathed no sigh or groan in his death-hour, But with the awful stillness of a dream, Passed to the mystic realm whine dwell the shades Of years that passed before him. One more wave,Bright with our smiles and bitter with our tears, A wave that has reflected star and cloud, The blue sky and the tempest's wrath, is lost In the great ocean of Eternity, Whose dark and dread and shoreless waters hide The wrecks of empires and the wrecks of worlds From every eye but God's.
Ah! gazing back Upon the parted year, we darkly mourn Its rich and wasted treasures. We recall, With keen remorse, life's follies and its crimes, And tears are swelling in our stricken hearts— Vain tears, alas how vain! And see! beside The shadowy spectre of the silent Past, A sad and sorrowing Angel seems to stand, Who, in a tone as mournful as the cry Of a lost soul, rebukes us for our deeds Of error, and implores us to be true To earth and Heaven in all the coming time That may be ours beneath the skies.
Here, here, At one year's burial and another's birth, Here, on this narrow isthmus in the sea, Time's ever surging sea, oh let us pause And deeply muse upon the two vast worlds, Spread out on either hand before our eyes, The Past and Future. From this lonely height, Straining our gaze far backward o'er the plain That we have swiftly traversed, we behold, All thickly scattered o'er the dreary space, Unnumbered mounds, which mark the graves of joys, And loves, and hopes that thronged around our path, To charm our eyes and win our happy hearts By theft sweet smiles and wild enchanting tones, And then sank down to mingle with the dust, Like exhalations of the morning. We Look earnestly upon the fairy vales, Where, in life's spring-time hours, we lingered long To gather garlands of sweet flowers to deck The heart's own altars—but no flowers are there. The Autumn winds and Winter tempests swept Above their blooming loveliness, and they Perished in their bright beauty, and their souls Of perfume passed to Heaven. With wearied eyes, And sad and aching hearts, we turn away From the lone desolations of the past, To gaze upon Futurity, and there, Through the long vista of the years, we see, 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.
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, Still holds us in the hollow of His hand, And bids us trust in Him.
Farewell, Old Year ! May we, when called, like thee, from earth away, Obey. like thee, the summons, calm, serene, Without one sigh, or groan, or wild heart-throb To mark the moment of dissolving life. And oh may we, within the Eden land, Where angel wings are glancing through the air, And seraph songs are poured from rainbow clouds, Once more embrace the loved and lost whom thou Hast taken from us in thy silent flight.