A VISION OF TIME.
NEW-YEAR'S EVE.
O did you not see him that over the snow
Came on with a pace so cautious and slow?--
That measured his step to a pendulum-tick,
Arriving in town when the darkness was thick?
In the midst of a vision of mind and heart,
A drama above all human art,
I saw him last night, with locks so gray,
A long way off, as the light died away.
And I knew him at once, so often before
Had he silently, mournfully passed at my door.
He must be cold and weary, I said,
Coming so far, with that measured tread.
I will urge him to linger awhile with me
Till his withering chill and weariness flee.
A story--who knows?--he may deign to rehearse,
And when he is gone I will put it in verse.
I turned to prepare for the coming guest,
With curious, troublous thoughts oppressed.
The window I cheered with the taper's glow
Which glimmered afar o'er the spectral snow.
My anxious care the hearth-stone knew,
And the red flames leaped and beckoned anew.
But chiefly myself, with singular care,
Did I for the hoary presence prepare.
Yet with little success, as I paced the room,
Did I labor to banish a sense of gloom.
My thoughts were going and coming like bees,
With store from the year's wide-stretching leas;
Some laden with honey, some laden with gall,
And into my heart they dropped it all!
O miserable heart! at once overrun
With the honey and gall thou can'st not shun.
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