.MTM4MA.MTE3OTEz
To 1906 Happy New Year I am the Shuttle-cock that flies When Time's old battle-door shall strike. Tho' dust or roses blind my eyes The final goal is aye alike. We know not whence, nor whither sent, But wait some force beyond control A freighted vessel, forward bent, To save a Man or wreck a Soul!
Nigh fourscore years my bark has run,
Turning each year a newer leaf;
At last I find of corn I've None
False Folly reaps a royal Sheaf!
Still bravely oe'r the seas I glide
And smile when tempests sweep the decks,
For I am not of those who died -
Although the deeps are hid with wrecks.
When on the coral sands it flies,
Life's stormy passage wholly run;
Some other cheers the weeping eyes,
And comforts him who just begun.
Death has no terrors for the true!
Life bears alone the aches and pains.
When battledoors no more pursue
the shuttle-cock at rest remains. Isaac A. Pool.
in left margin Dec. 31, 05