T

TIME IS LIFE.

IME that matures brings also to decay;

Buds grow to blossoms, blossoms fade away;
The increase of life but nearer proves our end,
Manhood stands next in withering age to bend,
Blooming or breaking, every change man hath
Is but a movement in the mortal path.

Then keep with patience every present hour,
Seek not to pass so soon from bud to flower,
The blush of morning, though but calmly bright,
Stands not so near as blazing noon to night,
And, save that Death doth blindly deal his blow,
Childhood's young stream the farthest hath to flow.
Or bright, or sad, 'tis life: embrace the day,
E'en in thy trouble ne'er wish Time away;
To guard each hour of life doth something save,
To long for e'en to-morrow is to call the grave.

D

LIFE IS CHANGE.

REAM not the world so soon must fade

Because thy life so frail is made ; Though age o'ertake, new youth appears, And brightens all the rolling years.

Change is the watchword of the hour,

We court the stream, we wreathe the flower,

The waters dry but fresh shall flow,

The garlands fade, but others grow.

The mother cannot youth retain,
But feels it in her child again,
And he, when grown to be a sire,

Shall still Creation's life inspire.

If Time's rude hand hath changed thy brow,

If something less of freshness now
Within thy bounding pulse appears,
Than graced thy life in earlier years,

Oh! dwell not on that common truth, But trace in all the growth of youth The charms that Nature doth unfold: Ah! what if all the world were old!

Though Time destroys, he ripens too,
The changing world is ever new,
And youth shall bloom and life be gay
When we and ours have passed away.

YOUTH, AGE, AND DEATH.

HEN quite a child I loved to play,

WH

And frolicked all my life away,

And longed for each succeeding day.

And when, by Time compelled to move
Towards manhood, I began to prove

The sentiment we know as Love.

Still later on, a father grown,

I 'gan to ponder more alone,
More solemn than I cared to own.

And when I grandfather became,
And 'gan to walk a little lame,

All things to me seemed much the same.

Oh! now comes wisdom-thus I cried

All life's pursuits in turn I've tried,

And thrown such vanities aside.

But now comes Death to shake my hand,
And tells me I must leave the land,

And says-Good friend, pray understand:

A very foolish thought is this,

That Age can wisdom claim as his,

And deem Youth's pleasures all amiss :

Age cannot, sure, compete with Youth;
Age is not young: 'tis equal truth

Youth is not Age: there's room for both :

Were you a child again, again

Would childhood's pleasures fill your brain; Or man, love would your heart enchain :

You'd come to meet me as you came;

You'd play once more your former game;

Others are doing just the same:

Earth still has pleasures for the young,

Their song of life is not yet sung,

Earth counts them still her flowers among:

But they, as you have changed, must change,

To them will early life seem strange;

In all succeeding ranks all range: