Early Poems (1859-70). The Old Year
It passed like the breath of the night-wind away, It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day; It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled, Another increase to the age of the world. It passed with its shadows, its smiles and its tears, It passed as a stream to the ocean of years; Years that were coming—were here—and are o'er, The ages departed to visit no more. It passed, but the bark on its billowy track Leaves an impression on waters aback: The glow of the gloaming remains on the sky, Unwilling to leave us—unwilling to die. It fled; but away and away in its wake There lingers a something that time cannot break. The past and the future are joined by a chain, And memories live that must ever remain.
Henry Kendall’s other poems:
