Youth
David Macbeth
Moir
Moir, David Macbeth (pseudonym Delta,
∆)
△
Metadata research and editing
DVPP Project Team
Fukushima
Kailey
University of Victoria Digital Victorian Periodical Poetry Project
Victoria, BC, Canada
In the public domain
Poet attribution: △ is the pseudonym in Blackwood’s for David Macbeth Moir. (AC)
Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
7
42
624–625
How beautiful the scenes of youth
text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 80%; letter-spacing: 0.06em;
margin-left: 7em;
margin-left: 1em;
text-align: right; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 4rem;
display: none;
display: inline;
display: block;
font-size: 1rem; width: 32em;
CSS remediation, verified.
Created pom_8765_incid_poem rendition to reset font-sizes.
Added useful rendition elements in anticipation of CSS reworking.
Add the value of the style attribute in the head element to the value of the corresponding
rendition and delete the style attribute from the corresponding head.
Handle base cases of incidental titles.
Re-organized change elements in descending date order.
Assigned dominant rhyme-scheme value to poem div using automated XSLT.
Removed catRef with target="dvpp:illustrationNone", now obsolete.
Set status to 'proofed'. Changed CSS to follow updated protocols and maintain consistency
across periodical/year. Changed rhyme types to follow updated protocols.
Youth
.
How beautiful the scenes of youth
Awaken to the mind !
Scenes, like the summer ocean smooth,
Serener—fairer far, than Truth
On earth shall ever find !
Time is a tyrant—months and years
Pass onward like the sea, that leaves
A solitary isle, which rears
Its passive bosom, and appears
Between the rolling waves
In life there is no second spring—
The past is gone—for ever gone !
We cannot check a moment’s wing ;
Pierce thro’ futurity ; or bring
The heart its vanished tone !
Resplendent as a summer sky,
When day-light lingers in the west,
To Retrospection’s loving eye,
The blooming fields of childhood lie,
By Fancy’s finger drest
A greener foliage decks the grove ;
A brighter tint pervades fie flower ;
More azure seems the heaven above ;
The earth a very bower of love,
And man within that bower !
And ever, when the storms of Fate
Come darkening o’er the star of life,
We backward turn to renovate
Our thoughts with freshness, and create
An antidote to strife.
Thus dead and silent are the strings,
As legends say, of Memnon’s lyre ;
Till, from the orient, Phœbus flings
His smiles of golden light, and brings
Life, harmony, and fire !
Δ
.