Title:

Facing pages [102-103]

Date:

18640411-18640412

1. Poetry - The Future, Our years are gliding on, old age Will soon his fetters round us throw. Each day is like the turning page At which we but a glance bestow.- Each month a dream; - we but awake to find it real- then dream again. Illusive charms we dread to break- the stem reality gives pain: We dare not look it in the face, But would all thoughts of it erase. 2. We bask our lives in summers sun [Now] think of shadows yet to come. But as the Autumn hastens on Its icy chils our hearts [illegible], We start ask where our youth has fled? What mean the shadows on the brow? Old age replies- thy youth has fled Beyond thy grasp; "I'm with thee now!" [Tho] weak and cheerless is my [aid] Thy hand in mine must now be laid. 3. Our dreaming eyes are filled with tears - Our faltering limbs [scarce] bear us on; Our failing minds are full of fears. We wish each weary day were gone, Time hastens with unwearied flight - Bids us prepare our lovely bed; Death comes like shadows of the night And numbers us among the dead. Some sweet wild flower upon our grave Is all the trace that memory leaves. 4. May we our youthful days improve; Gain knowledge from each passing day; Nor fail the ways of truth to love, [illegible] ease the path of our decay. over

English

Collection:

Henry O. Nightingale diaries