Richmond Enquirer

DEATH OF THE ALMANAC.

Now midnight's silent, solemn hour
Flows lonely o'er the snowy lawn,
While contemplation, wakeful power,
Softly proclaims the New Year's dawn.
But, hark!—the Almanac—the friend
Whose cast hath cheer'd me through the year;
Its voice, now sinking to its end,
From yonder mantel shelf I hear:—

"The cruel time arrives—in vain
I chide the moments—they are done;
Poor almanacs are born to pain—
How soon out almanac race is run!

"Twould early on last New Year's day
That I was fix'd upon the wall;
Condemn'd behind a cord to stay,
Wide open to the view of all.

"The weather faithfully I've told:
The letter's date was mine to tell,
And how the luminaries roll'd.
And what the moon's strange face befel.

'Tis oft have I told the rolling sign,
Have noted every holy day;
And many a recipe of mine
Has routed fell disease away.

"The husbandman my knowledge prais'd,
The lawyer my directions used;
My page the patriot song has rais'd,
My anecdotes a laugh diffus'd.

"When Edgar, in his waking dreams,
Glanc'd at the dear appointed day,
To me he look'd if Luna's beams
Would light him on his homeward way.

"And lovely Jane, with cautious heed,
My columns oft has view'd, to see
When lightsome eve would William lead
To ask her o'er the dewy lea.

"Through joy, or carelessness, or haste,
On have they flung me rashly by,
By children, dirt, and grease defac'd,
Or doom'd on dusty shelves to lie.

"The clock strikes twelve! O fatal chime!
I die, with thousands, at the sound;
But thousands more, the hand of Time
At morn shall place behind the cord."

Stay, stay, old friend—but, ah! too late,
Time's heedless car sweeps all away!
Not mourn not thy unhappy fate;
Man, too, is hastening to decay.