4478984Poems — The March of LifeClara Augusta Jones Trask
THE MARCH OF LIFE.
With noiseless tread the fleeting years go by,
And leave but memories of their griefs and joys;
And life's gay vanities we prize so high,
When looking back, are valueless as toys.

Oh, lapse of time! oh, days forever fled!
Oh, youth and gladness passed for evermore!
Oh, fond, sweet hopes that lie so cold and dead,
And strewn like wrecks, along life's rugged shore!

Once, all the world was bathed in rosy light,
The future hid itself in golden haze,—
Mornings of perfect beauty burst from, night
And lost themselves in glow of heavenly days.

We stood beside life's sea, and felt no chill;
The tides leaped up in music on the sands;
We heard no cries of lost souls break the still,—
We saw no beckoning gleam of dead white hands.

Ah, well! we live and suffer! love and lose;
Graves of our dead are green along the way;
And as we near the twilight shades and dews,
We find it is December, and not May.

God grant us Faith, and unto it we'll cling!
Faith which accepts all things as for the best;
Which looks for death only to bring some change,
Some pleasant change, and trusts Him for the rest.