Father Ryan's Poems (8)

    How swift they go, Life's many years, With their winds of woe¹ And their storms of tears, And their darkest of nights whose shadowy slopes Are lit with the flashes of starriest hopes, And their sunshiny days in whose calm heavens loom² The clouds of the tempest -the shadows of the gloom！

    And ah！ we pray With a grief so drear, That the years may stay When their graves are near； Tho' the brows of Tomorrows be radiant and bright, With love and with beauty, with life and with light, The dead hearts of Yesterdays, cold on the bier, To the hearts that survive them, are evermore dear.

    For the hearts so true To each Old Year cleaves³； Tho' the hand of the New Flowery garlands weaves. But the flowers of the future, tho' fragrant⁴ and fair, With the past's withered⁵ leaflets may never compare； For dear is each dead leaf —— and dearer each thorn —— In the wreaths which the brows of our past years have worn.

    Yea！ men will cling With a love to the last, And wildly fling Their arms round their past！ As the vine that clings to the oak that falls； As the ivy⁶ twines⁷ round the crumbled⁸ walls； For the dust of the past some hearts higher prize Than the stars that flash out from the future's bright skies.

    And why not so？ The old, Old Years, They knew and they know All our hopes and fears； We walked by their side, and we told them each grief, And they kissed off our tears while they whispered relief； And the stories of hearts that may not be revealed In the hearts of the dead years are buried and sealed.

    Let the New Year sing At the Old Year's grave： Will the New Year bring What the Old Year gave？ Ah！ the Stranger-Year trips over the snows, And his brow is wreathed with many a rose： But how many thorns do the roses conceal⁹ Which the roses, when withered, shall so soon reveal？

    Let the New Year smile When the Old Year dies； In how short a while Shall the smiles be sighs？ Yea！ Stranger-Year, thou hast many a charm, And thy face is fair and thy greeting warm, But, dearer than thou ——in his shroud¹⁰ of snows —— Is the furrowed¹¹ face of the Year that goes.

    Yea！ bright New Year, O'er all the earth, With song and cheer, They will hail thy birth； They will trust thy words in a single hour, They will love thy face, they will laud¹² thy power； For the ~New~ has charms which the ~Old~ has not, And the Stranger's face makes the Friend's forgot.