by Mrs. Cornwell Baron Wilson.
Originally published in Fraser's Magazine (James Fraser) vol.2 #11 (Dec 1830).
Dost thou remember, ev'ry closing year,
We promised to look back upon the past?
To muse on gone-by hours, to memory dear,
That were too bright, too beautiful to last?
True to my promise, as the pealing bells
Proclaim the dying year, at length set free,
The lamp of mem'ry burns; and fancy dwells,
Upon those hours of happiness—and THEE!
Ah! since that Season! many a mingled thread
Hath Fate enwoven in MY web of life!
And often has my heart with anguish bled,
Crush'd, worn, and wearied in this mortal strife!
And where art THOU? has Time, on zephyr's wing,
Pass'd gently o'er Thee, in his restless flight?
Or, like the sweeping simoom, did he bring,
To mark his onward progress, storm and blight?
Ah! doubtless Time hath bent his brows on Thee,
And shed his snow-flakes;—wherefore do I ask?
Since thou must share the common destiny
Of all who wear Life's motley garb and mask!
The world's wide path hath led us diff'rent ways,
Amid this busy labyrinth of men;—
And since youth's cloudless hours and stainless days,
We ne'er have met;—nor e'er shall meet again!
Yet never does the closing year depart,
But faithful Memory, with her golden key,
Opens the secret casket of my heart,
Where many a treasured thought is stor'd of THEE!
And while the sweet and bitter cud I chew,
Of musing Fancy,—by Time's shroud o'ercast;
I laugh at Fate—and all her pow'r can do,
Since nought can rob me of the cherish'd PAST!
I murmur not at Life's swift-gliding hours,
Nor would the rapid wing of Time arrest;—
Alike to me its sunshine, or its show'rs,—
Since "come what may, I have—I have been blest!"
To-night, I'll pledge the goblet to a name
Ne'er by my lips pronounc'd—or heart forgot!
Some whisperer asks, "Will he, too, do the same?"
And my true heart still answers, "Doubt it not!"
