Poems (Denver)/The Spirit of the Year
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THE SPIRIT OF THE YEAR.
The spirit of the year has flown,
The harp with song no more is strung,
That, like a mountain seraph tone,
Wild melody around us flung.
The clouds were touched with mystic power,
And hearts vibrated to the strain,
That, even in that solemn hour,
Commingled pleasure with its pain.
The harp with song no more is strung,
That, like a mountain seraph tone,
Wild melody around us flung.
The clouds were touched with mystic power,
And hearts vibrated to the strain,
That, even in that solemn hour,
Commingled pleasure with its pain.
The chords were touched, and proudly rose
The voice of the departed one,
While life was drawing to a close,
Ere yet its lingering task was done:
As rose the strain upon the air,
And cast o'er earth its magic spell,
A tone of sadness mingled there,
In token of its last farewell.
The voice of the departed one,
While life was drawing to a close,
Ere yet its lingering task was done:
As rose the strain upon the air,
And cast o'er earth its magic spell,
A tone of sadness mingled there,
In token of its last farewell.
"I join the noble dead," it said,
As passed the shadows from its wing—
"I go to join the mighty dead,
The greatness of their deeds to sing.
I stand upon that crumbling shore,
Whose dark waves gather round me fast,
And lo! to greet me come once more,
The kingly rulers of the past!
As passed the shadows from its wing—
"I go to join the mighty dead,
The greatness of their deeds to sing.
I stand upon that crumbling shore,
Whose dark waves gather round me fast,
And lo! to greet me come once more,
The kingly rulers of the past!
"Thou of the many diadems,
Before whose silent waves I stand,
My beautiful, my priceless gems,
I gave unto your jewelled hand.
The gladness that was wont to twine
Around my heart's wild minstrelsy,
Warm hearts that knelt before my shrine,
These were my offerings to Thee.
Before whose silent waves I stand,
My beautiful, my priceless gems,
I gave unto your jewelled hand.
The gladness that was wont to twine
Around my heart's wild minstrelsy,
Warm hearts that knelt before my shrine,
These were my offerings to Thee.
"I shook the blossoms from my wing,
To herald my departure hence;
And bade the fairest flow'rets sing,
My dirge of summer excellence.
I see them now beside the grave
That open waits for me the while;
They turn upon the silent wave,
And greet me with their solemn smile!
To herald my departure hence;
And bade the fairest flow'rets sing,
My dirge of summer excellence.
I see them now beside the grave
That open waits for me the while;
They turn upon the silent wave,
And greet me with their solemn smile!
"I come not as a captive comes,
Enchained, from dark, disastrous war,
Whose thoughts in tortured madness roam;
I am a kingly conqueror,
The hearts of millions are my own;
Whose brightness to the grave went down—
Their deep unchanging love my throne,
Their tears the jewels of my crown.
Enchained, from dark, disastrous war,
Whose thoughts in tortured madness roam;
I am a kingly conqueror,
The hearts of millions are my own;
Whose brightness to the grave went down—
Their deep unchanging love my throne,
Their tears the jewels of my crown.
'Ye shadowy sisters of the past,
Whose mighty love is o'er me spread,
I feel I am your own at last,
One numbered with the noble dead:
I enter now that silent home,
I hear the sad winds breathe my knell—
Lost ones, and loved, I come, I come!
Earth and earth's children, all, farewell!"
Whose mighty love is o'er me spread,
I feel I am your own at last,
One numbered with the noble dead:
I enter now that silent home,
I hear the sad winds breathe my knell—
Lost ones, and loved, I come, I come!
Earth and earth's children, all, farewell!"