sities, is ruled by a thousand liliputian ties that shackle at the time, although it is difficult to account afterward for their influence over our destiny. Poems Written in 1821 Dirge for the Year I. RPHAN hours, the year is dead, Merry hours, smile instead, For the year is but asleep. See, it smiles as it is sleeping, Mocking your untimely weeping. II. As an earthquake rocks a corse So White Winter, that rough nurse, Solemn hours! wail aloud For your mother in her shroud. ! III. As the wild air stirs and sways The tree-swung cradle of a child, So the breath of these rude days Rocks the year: - be calm and mild, Trembling hours, she will arise With new love within her eyes. IV. January gray is here, Like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave, And April weeps but, O, ye hours, Follow with May's fairest flowers. |