POETRY.
OLD AGE.
A SONGLESS bird, a garden without flowers,
A river-bed dried up in thirsty hours, A sterile field untutored by the plough, A withered blossom on a withering bough, A flickering light that fails when needed moat To warn the sailor from a treacherous coast,
A thought that dies ere yet 'tin fully born, A hope that gleams like poppies 'midst the corn,—
Fair idle weeds that flaunter in the sun, Fair morning hopes that fail ere day be done, Fair Life, so seeming-fair, so coldly bright,
Fair Life, beloved of Love, and youth's delight,—
At early dawn, how fresh thy face appears !— The twilight sees it furrowed o'er with tears.
Spring flowers are sweet, but autumn's woods are dry, Spring birds are silent 'neath a wintry sky ; Spring thoughts that wake to deeds inspire no more, When the dull day-light fades along the shore ; The ice-blocked stream can bear no precious freight,— The stripped and sapless oak stands desolate, And the hill fortress that defied the foe In crumbling fragments fills the vale below.
Yet is there golden beauty in decay, As Autumn's leaves outshine the leaves of May ; The calm of evening with its roseate light, The starry silence of the wintry night ; The stillness of repose when storms are o'er, And the sea murmurs on a peaceful shore ; The brooding memories of the past that make The old man young again for Beauty's sake ; The hope sublime that cheers the lonely road Which leads him gently to the hills of God.
Rum Diann&
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