The Hillsborough Recorder

From the Washingtonian Companion

THE PAST YEAR.

Departed year! there is a tone
Of silent eloquence in thee,
That tells of hopes and pleasures flown,
Like bubbles on the swelling sea,
That glitter one short moment there,
And then are lost in empty air.

Time's silent and unerring wings
Are folding on their noiseless way,
And earth, with all its glorious things,
Speaks but of changes and decay:
Yes! all that dwells on our dull sphere,
Is like to thee, thou faded year!

When smiling nature hailed the birth
Of her young daughter, rosy spring,
And breathing flowers were on the earth,
And loving birds were on the wing;
When even zephyr bore along
The music of melody and song—

How many, young, and fair, and gay,
Whose buoyant step, danced free and light,
On pleasure's soft and sunny way,
While life was beautiful and bright;
How many, ere the season fled.
Were faded like its flower, and dead!

And when thy sun, proud summer, rode
Along its blazing pathway high,
Brave of his youth, whose passions glow'd
Like thy own deep and burning sky,
With gaudy in beauty, strength, and pride,
Quick as the lightning flashes, died!

And noble manhood fades away,
Still come, like the by leaf, wan and sear,
Where earth is mantled with decay,
And winds weep o'er the dying year:
While winter's tempest, shrill and loud,
Weaves for old age the snowy shroud.

Those then, may hurry on his flight,
And death still whisper, "dust to dust:"
But, robed in immortality's light,
The sainted spirits of the just
Shall soar on wings of faith sublime,
And triumph over death and time.