80 THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS.
THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS.
SOMEWHAT back from the village street, Stands the old-fashioned country seat. Across its antique portico
Tall poplar trees their shadows throw; And from its station in the hall An ancient time-piece says to all, "Forever- never!
Half way up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands, From its case of massive oak,
Like a monk, who under his cloak
Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! With sorrowful voice, to all who pass, "Forever never!
By day its voice is low and light, But in the silent dead of night, Distinct as a passing footstep's fall It echoes along the vacant hall, Along the ceiling, along the floor, nd seems to say at each chamber door,
THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. 81
In that mansion used to be
Free-hearted hospitality;
His great fires by the chimney roared, The stranger feasted at his board; But like the skeleton at the feast,
The warning time-piece never ceased, "Forever never!
There groups of merry children played, There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; O precious hours, O golden prime, And affluence of love and time; E'en as a miser counts his gold,
Those hours the ancient time-piece told, "Forever never!
From the chamber, clothed in white, The bride came forth on her wedding-night; There in that silent room below,
The dead lay in his shroud of snow; And in the hush that followed the prayer, We heard the old clock on the stair, — "Forever - never!
All are scattered now and fled: Some are married, some are dead; And when I ask, with throbs of pain, "Ah, when shall they all meet again,
As in the days long since gone by?" The ancient time-piece makes reply, 66 Forever. never!
Never here, forever there!
Where all parting, pain, and care, And death and time shall disappear, Forever there, but never here! The horologe of eternity
Sayeth this incessantly,
"Forever never!
O NATURE! all thy seasons please the eye Of him who sees a present Deity in all. It is His presence that diffuses charms
Unspeakable o'er mountain, wood and stream. To think that He, who hears the heavenly choirs, Hearkens complacent to the woodland song; To think that He, who rolls yon solar sphere, Uplifts the warbling songster to the sky; To mark his presence in the mighty bow That spans the clouds as in the tints minute Of tiniest flower; to hear his awful voice In thunder speak, and whisper in the gale
To know and feel his care for all that lives; 'Tis this that makes the barren waste appear A fruitful field, each grove a paradise.
Yes, place me mid far-stretching woodless wilds, Where no sweet song is heard; the heath-bell there Would please my weary sight, and tell of Thee! There would my gratefully uplifted eye
Survey the heavenly vault, by day, by night, When glows the firmament from pole to pole; There would my overflowing heart exclaim, "The heavens declare the glory of the Lord, The firmament shows forth his handiwork."
THESE, as they change, Almighty Father, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring Thy beauty walks; thy tenderness and love Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm; Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; And every sense and every heart is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the summer months, With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year; And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales,
Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In winter, awful thou! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolled, Majestic darkness, on the whirlwind's wing, Riding sublime, thou bidd'st the world adore, And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
a wreath for thee.
Of sweet and gentle flowers;
For wedded love was pure and free In Eden's happy bowers.
a tear for thee,
A tear in all thy gladness;
For thy young heart shall not see Joy unmixed with sadness.
a smile for thee,
To shine away thy sorrow,
For Heaven is kind to-day, and we
Will hope as well to-morrow.
« AnteriorContinuar » |