Vale!
O the swift years !1
Pleasure, dismayed, beholds them hurry on ;2
And love, strong love, looks back through passionate tears ;3
Like the bright meteor that scarce appears,4
Soon are they gone.5
O the fleet hours !6
Why, what is man ?— their puppet and their slave ;7
At first his fetters wreathing with fair flowers,8
Then galled and worn and robbed of all his powers,9
Gaining a grave.10
Vale ! we cry,11
Watching in youth the sweet June roses fall ;12
They bloom again—small matter if they die.13
Ah ! yes, they bloom ; but canker worms will lie,14
Doubt not, in all.15
Vale ! The word16
Later has smitten us with mortal pain ;17
Rung out the death-knell of dear hope, or stirred18
The lips whose earthly voices may be heard19
Never again.20
Then does it wake21
Sad recollections : haunting thoughts that grieve ;22
We know the cruel wound some farewells make,23
We learn to dread the nothingness, the break24
Parting may leave.25
So the years run !26
Vale ! we soon must bid this brief estate ;27
But for that heritage which shall be won28
When the freed soul with time itself has done,29
Trusting, we wait.30