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The River of Life

Where old friends meet.

Let him; now heaven is overcast,

And spring and summer both are past,

And all things sweet.

407

Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

YEARS

YEARS, many parti-colored years,

Some have crept on, and some have flown Since first before me fell those tears

I never could see fall alone.

Years, not so many, are to come,
Years not so varied, when from you
One more will fall: when, carried home,
I see it not, nor hear Adieu.

Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

THE RIVER OF LIFE

THE more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages:
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.

The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals, lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.

But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye Stars, that measure life to man,

Why seem your courses quicker?

When joys have lost their bloom and breath,

And life itself is vapid,

Why, as we reach the Falls of Death,

Feel we its tide more rapid?

It may be strange-yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone
And left our bosoms bleeding?

Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;

And those of youth, a seeming length,

Proportioned to their sweetness,

Thomas Campbell [1777–1844]

"LONG TIME A CHILD"

LONG time a child, and still a child, when years
Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I,-
For yet I lived like one not born to die;
A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears,

No hope I needed, and I knew no fears.

But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep; and waking,
I waked to sleep no more; at once o'ertaking
The vanguard of my age, with all arrears
Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man,
Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is gray,
For I have lost the race I never ran:
A rathe December blights my lagging May;
And still I am a child, though I be old:
Time is my debtor for my years untold.

Hartley Coleridge [1796-1849]

THE WORLD I AM PASSING THROUGH

FEW, in the days of early youth,

Trusted like me in love and truth.
I've learned sad lessons from the years;

But slowly, and with many tears;

For God made me to kindly view

The world that I was passing through.

The World I Am Passing Through 409

How little did I once believe

That friendly tones could e'er deceive!
That kindness, and forbearance long,
Might meet ingratitude and wrong!
I could not help but kindly view
The world that I was passing through.

And though I've learned some souls are base.
I would not, therefore, hate the race;
I still would bless my fellow men,
And trust them, though deceived again,
God help me still to kindly view
The world that I am passing through!

Through weary conflicts I have passed,
And struggled into rest at last;
Such rest as when the rack has broke
A joint, or nerve, at every stroke.
The wish survives to kindly view
The world that I am passing through.

From all that fate has brought to me
I strive to learn humility,

And trust in Him who rules above,
Whose universal law is love.

Thus only can I kindly view

The world that I am passing through.

When I approach the setting sun,
And feel my journey nearly done,
May earth be veiled in genial light,
And her last smile to me seem bright!
Help me till then to kindly view
The world that I am passing through!

And all who tempt a trusting heart
From faith and hope to drift apart,-
May they themselves be spared the pain
Of losing power to trust again!

God help us all to kindly view

The world that we are passing through!

Lydia Maria Child [1802-1880]

TERMINUS

It is time to be old,

To take in sail:

The god of bounds,

Who sets to seas a shore,

Came to me in his fatal rounds,

And said: "No more!

No farther shoot

Thy broad ambitious branches, and thy root.

Fancy departs: no more invent;

Contract thy firmament

To compass of a tent.

There's not enough for this and that,

Make thy option which of two;

Economize the failing river,

Not the less revere the Giver,

Leave the many and hold the few.

Timely wise accept the terms,

Soften the fall with wary foot;
A little while

Still plan and smile,

And,--fault of novel germs,—

Mature the unfallen fruit.
Curse, if thou wilt, thy sires,
Bad husbands of their fires,

Who, when they gave thee breath,

Failed to bequeath

The needful sinew stark as once,
The Baresark marrow to thy bones,
But left a legacy of ebbing veins,
Inconstant heat and nerveless reins,—
Amid the Muses, left thee deaf and dumb,
Amid the Gladiators, halt and numb."

As the bird trims her to the gale,

I trim myself to the storm of time,

I man the rudder, reef the sail,
Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime:

Rabbi Ben Ezra

"Lowly faithful, banish fear,

Right onward drive unharmed;

The port, well worth the cruise, is near,

And every wave is charmed."

411

Ralph Waldo Emerson [1803-1882]

RABBI BEN EZRA

GROW old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in his hand

Who saith "A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!"

Not that, amassing flowers,

Youth sighed, "Which rose make ours, Which lily leave and then as best recall?"

Not that, admiring stars,

It yearned, "Nor Jove, nor Mars;

Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends them all!"

Not for such hopes and fears
Annulling youth's brief years,

Do I remonstrate: folly wide the mark!

Rather I prize the doubt

Low kinds exist without,
Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark.

Poor vaunt of life indeed,

Were man but formed to feed

On joy, to solely seek and find and feast:

Such feasting ended, then

As sure an end to men;

Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast?

Rejoice we are allied

To that which doth provide

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