89
Glad voices float upon the breeze of night,
And gentle laughter rings. Alas! too soon
The Past has fled: and now the Present comes,
With all its joys and sorrows, anxious cares,
And sunny hopes still shadowed by its fears.
Oh, who can muse upon the present hour,—
The hour of life, still passing as it comes,—
Nor feel insensibly the Future rise,
With all her train of deep entrancing thoughts,
And solemn feelings, sometimes bright and fair,
But ever touched with awe? There earthly Hope
Delights to weave her chain of rosy dreams,
And soothe too real woes with phantom joys;
And there Faith calmly lifts her trusting eye,
Discerning, 'mid the clouds that darken round,
A light no fear can quench, no sorrow dim;
For oh! from whencesoe'er those longings rise,
Which strive to pierce futurity, and reach
Beyond the veil which shrouds our coming years,
Each soaring thought at last must end in prayer:
For brightly though the distant haven shine,
And all is peaceful there, yet who can tell
How many a stormy blast and breaking wave'
May sweep their onward path to perfect rest?
It is a solemn thought. Oh! would that I
Could always 'mid the jocund hours of day
Think, feel as now! For at this stilly hour,
The meteor beam, which then too oft invests
Life's future scenes with bright though fading flowers,
Has passed away, and in its stead remains,
Not clouds and darkness, but a purer light,
Which shines undazzling now, yet calm and clear.
And gentle laughter rings. Alas! too soon
The Past has fled: and now the Present comes,
With all its joys and sorrows, anxious cares,
And sunny hopes still shadowed by its fears.
Oh, who can muse upon the present hour,—
The hour of life, still passing as it comes,—
Nor feel insensibly the Future rise,
With all her train of deep entrancing thoughts,
And solemn feelings, sometimes bright and fair,
But ever touched with awe? There earthly Hope
Delights to weave her chain of rosy dreams,
And soothe too real woes with phantom joys;
And there Faith calmly lifts her trusting eye,
Discerning, 'mid the clouds that darken round,
A light no fear can quench, no sorrow dim;
For oh! from whencesoe'er those longings rise,
Which strive to pierce futurity, and reach
Beyond the veil which shrouds our coming years,
Each soaring thought at last must end in prayer:
For brightly though the distant haven shine,
And all is peaceful there, yet who can tell
How many a stormy blast and breaking wave'
May sweep their onward path to perfect rest?
It is a solemn thought. Oh! would that I
Could always 'mid the jocund hours of day
Think, feel as now! For at this stilly hour,
The meteor beam, which then too oft invests
Life's future scenes with bright though fading flowers,
Has passed away, and in its stead remains,
Not clouds and darkness, but a purer light,
Which shines undazzling now, yet calm and clear.
