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Past and Present, and Men of the Times.

Postscript

page 228

Postscript.

And now I am sitting sad and lonely,
While the twilight shadows deepen,
And the soft notes of the night-bird
Sweetly fall upon my ear.
The night breeze, gently sighing,
As a requiem for the dying,
Seems to call hack days forgotten,
And for memory sheds a tear.

Oh, those "days of yore!" forgotten,
Gone on the wings of flying Time,
Now come stealing round me, near me,
Like a sad, despondent rhyme.
'Tis the dream of days departed,
Full of love and tuneful lays,
Full of peace and kind devotions.
That bring to me those by-gone days.

Up from the Past, comes a pleasant dream,
The grand old forest and shady dell,
And faces dear that now still seem
To fondly lighten, mid soon dispel
The grief of parting. Ah! memory dear,
Be kind to me, and not foretell
Again such sad and tearful separation;
But let me hear again, "I wish yon well."

Years shall pass, our heads grow hoary,
Some shall reach the other shore;
Some with faltering trend, but trusting,
On to reach those gone before.
But the memory of that parting,
Years of strife could not dispel,
They shall live in sweet remembrance,
To the gates of Heaven—"I wish you well."

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