Poems (Toke)/To the dying year

by Emma Toke

TO THE DYING YEAR.

IGHT falls on land and sea,
  'Mid starlight calm and clear;
The last that e'er shall close o'er thee,
   Departing year.

 The moon is bright on high,
  Stars gem the vault sublime;
They beam upon thy dying eye,
   Thou child of Time.

 All earth entranced appears,
  No breath is on the wave;
Nature in silence sheds her tears
   Around thy grave.

 Yet calmly dost thou die,
  And o'er thine opening tomb
No raging blast or shrouded sky
   Sheds storm and gloom.

 But as one full of years,
  Honoured and loved, must bow
At last amid his children's tears,
   So fadest thou.

 Yet who without a sigh
  Can see thee pass away,
And think how swiftly too flies by,
   Youth's early day?

 Hope shines not o'er thee now,—
  She seeks the rising year;
But faithful Memory's warmest glow
   Still lingers there.

 Her magic power can bring
  The varied scenes again,
That chequered o'er thy fleeting wing
   With joy or pain.

 And though they all have fled,
  And thou art fading now,
Yet light like that which gilds the dead
   Beams o'er thy brow.

 Oh! who can ponder o'er
  Thy scenes of good and ill,
Nor bless the love that spared once more,
   Unwearied still?

 And pray that every wave,
  On Time's eventful sea,
Tinged with a light earth never gave,
   More bright may be.

 Old year, thou art fading fast!
  Darker the shadows fall!
And round thee, like a mantle cast,
   Night spreads her pall.

 Hark! on the breeze O hear
  Thy solemn midnight knell,
And thou art gone. Departed year,
   Once more Farewell!

E.

December 31, 1836.