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

50 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—