. Stray poems and early history of the Albany and Susquehanna Railroad . And the robins come with the thrush and singThe same as they ^id last year,Till the copse and the woodland fairly ringWith the notes we love to hear. l80 THE WAVES OF TIME. And rustle the withered leaves;For the waves of time keep rolling by With a a surging, stately tread,Till we gaze on the past, and breathe a sigh That the years so soon are a little infant lies today On its mothers breast tomorrow a child we see at play With its fast and flying ripple more on the sea of time, Then a youth w
. Stray poems and early history of the Albany and Susquehanna Railroad . And the robins come with the thrush and singThe same as they ^id last year,Till the copse and the woodland fairly ringWith the notes we love to hear. l80 THE WAVES OF TIME. And rustle the withered leaves;For the waves of time keep rolling by With a a surging, stately tread,Till we gaze on the past, and breathe a sigh That the years so soon are a little infant lies today On its mothers breast tomorrow a child we see at play With its fast and flying ripple more on the sea of time, Then a youth with a sparkling eye,And soon a man in his lusty prime Is stepping with vigor ripple more, so slight, twould seem But the dip of a swallows wing,Or the passing light of a flitting gleam. When the clouds their shgdows the man is wafted hence, away On the gliding stream of time,And his barque lies anchored in the bay Of a new and changeless One ripple more on the sea of time,Then a youth with a sparkling eye. 182 THE WAVES OF TIME. Tis ever thus on the sea of hfe The fleets come hurrying by,Though they breast the storm of the billows strife Or sail neath a placid we look around we think we stand With our feet on the solid shore,And we watch the boats which are out from land And list to the oceans roar; And we do not think that we are afloat On the rolling ocean too,Whose restless waves are rocking our boat. And bearing us out of , Power Supreme, whose almighty will Bade the raging winds to cease,And the shrieking blasts grew soft and still, And the billows sank in peace;We ask Thy aid, and we crave Thy hand, To guide our crafts we sail along tward the beauteous land, Where the shores are always bright;Where a heavenly springtime always reigns And the violets always a lasting sunshine gilds the plains. And no seasons come or go. dn i\crostic Composing rhymes is not for me, Lifes busy work
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