Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/81

And if I could, would I bring back
A single buried day? Oh no,
Only lone journeying on my track,
Each day's farewell oppresses so
My heart, that I perforce must say,
Lo! Lo! Another flower is gone,
Dropped from my crown to whirl away—
Where? In the wild and far unknown.
Another shadow on the shade
Already stretched across my path,
Another spring retrenched and bade
To join those that Oblivion hath.
Hearken! The calm sonorous sound
Slow shudders—twelve. 'Tis done! 'tis done!
While darkness reigns on earth profound,
The old year's dead, the new begun.
Adieu! And hail! O veiled new year
Greetings! What bearest thou in hand?
Tell us what benefits are near?
Shall peace and plenty rule the land?
What do I say? Oh, rather hide
The secrets dormant in thy breast:
In youth and hope thou seem'st a bride,
And fairy colours on thee rest.
But not the less thy course may bring
Regrets and tears and bitter sighs;
Thus every day upon the wing
Beholds our senseless vows arise,
And thus, before its course is o'er,
It sees our dearest things decay
And vanish to return no more;
Like bubbles,—all, all past away.
All, all, save one, for Hope remains,
And spreads her strange fantastic life—