Tuesday, December 30, 2025

On the Close of the Year

by Camilla Toulmin.

Originally published in Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance (Chapman and Hall) vol.2 #5 (1847).


                No wonder poets choose thee for their theme,
                Great Time! E'en if the lay be weak, 'twould seem,
                From thy sublimity, to surely gain
                Both power and glory,—borrowed not in vain;
                For peerless attar, 'prisoned in dull clay,
                Doth make the poor earth rich, though pass'd away,
                Leaving a legacy of wealth behind.
                'Tis thus we seek embodiment to find
                Of those high thoughts, which, like an essence rare,
                Men fain would bind and keep; for this they share
                The subtle power or spirit with some thing
                Of meaner quality, and strive to bring,
                And hold, within their reach that spirit-power
                Impalpable as fragrance from a flower.
                So poets strive to summon at their call
                Th' embalming words, which, if they come at all,
                The best and brightest are but earthy things,
                        Dimming the radiance they should enshrine,
                Too weak to follow Thoughts aspiring wings,
                        Or pierce the depths of its unfathom'd mine!

                Thou of the iron rule, great Time!—the thought
                        Of thee is all so vast, we cannot hope
                        To find for it a prison in the scope
                Of narrow words;—enough if there be caught
                Some feeble sparks, in kindred minds to light
                A flame, which there may grow more clear and bright.
                They fashion thee, old Time, with wings outspread;
                        Yet I could think that sometimes they are furl'd,
                When thou dost move with halt and lagging tread,
                        Casting a shadow on that inner world
                The mind itself creates. Lovers do count
                        The shadow'd days of absence, dark indeed
                To the true heart, which eagerly would mount
                        The car of Phœbus, that each lazy steed
                Might mend its pace, and gallop to the goal
                Which seems so sadly distant to his soul
                Neither, methinks, hast thou too swift a flight
                For him Ambition lures! Expectant wight,
                Who struts along beneath his galling chain
                Proudly, because 'tis gilt; looking in vain
                To meteor fires, which mock his ardent chase,
                Neglecting flowers he crushes in the race.

                And there are others, too, who sometimes chide
                        The tardy pace of Time. In these there meet
                Bright intellect and heart,—with the high tide
                        Of keen sensations;—waters pure and sweet
                To mirror fleeting joys; but dark and deep
                Their under currents, where ingulfed there sleep
                The wrecks of precious things. And such do long
                And yearn for years to swiftly pass along
                Till "times" shall be less "out of joint" with all
                        Those revelations of a loftier state.
                They see the twilight, and they feel the pall
                        Which covers this fair laughing earth—though late—
                Will be by Time removed;—such would not stay
                His rapid onward flight. Let him away!

                What does Time rob us of—our youth!—That wealth
                        Which we look back on through the golden gate
                        That ne'er shall ope again. With heart elate,
                Youth is but little prized, until by stealth
                We feel it shrinking, like a hoarded store,
                        On which th' inheritor draws heavy drafts.
                        So they were just, methinks no bitter shafts
                Are left to rankle when our youth is o'er.
                Who would give back the fruits of riper years
                        For the mere blossoms, or the produce crude
                Of the May-days of life—their hopes and fears?
                        Both hollow cheats, which most in youth intrude
                To misdirect our steps:—the world we find,
                Its joys and dangers, different to the mind,
                (Greater or less, but still of different hue,)
                From the false scenes they conjured to our view!

                But myriad are the clinging memories,
                Which unto earth's "tired denizens" must rise
                Whene'er the mind, as now, just stays to mark
                The pauseless tread of Time!—Into thy dark
                And measureless abyss, Eternity,
                A few more sands are dropt.—Eternity!
                That is a thing too vast for human speech,
                Which soaring thought indeed can never reach!
                Enough, created Time sprang from thy womb,
                Of which thou art as well the mighty tomb!
                Let us not mourn the rapid flight of Time,
                        The world grows richer ev'ry hour we live;
                Not in the drossy store of India's clime,
                        But in the dearer wealth that mind can give.
                Pass o'er us then, old Time, with wings outspread,
                        Scatt'ring the blessings which shall still endure,
                "Rip'ning and rotting" as our path we tread,
                        And healing wounds which only thou canst cure!

The Night of the Neckar

A German Legend. Originally published in The Keepsake for 1828 (Hurst, Chance, and Co.; Nov 1827).                         Neckar, night...