Page images
PDF
EPUB

A GIT T

FOR THE HOLIDAYS.

Meeting of the Wears.

I saw them meet, the Old Year and the New,
In ærial pomp beside my wild-wood home.
Night lay upon the forest, cold and still,
Like hope upon my pathway. The bright

moon

Pourd from her silver bowl a flood of light
Upon earth’s ermine robe of drifted snow,
O'er which innumerable diamonds flash'd,
Dazzling my weary eye with piercing gleams,
Shifting and quivering, even amid the gloom
Of the dark foliage of the noble pines
That border the bright hill-side. Lo! a sound
Of spirit pinions passing to and fro,
Among the moving branches, while the trees
Majestically bow'd their plumy heads
Unto the airy ministers of heaven,

« PreviousContinue »