The Years

THE YEARS.
St Louis Republic
198.8

They come, they pass, with snow-soft fool,
And deathless youth fiumes their eyes;
Alike to them are chaff and wheat,
Alike the foolish adn the wise,
They bring the wound, they bring the balm,
They light our smiles, they dry our tears;
Carless of death or life, the calm
Servants of time, the patient years,

The winds that rend and strew the rose,
Dissolve the sweetness through the air;
This wind of time that beats and blows,
Leaves all the past still fragrant-fair,
Though hopes may fall and hears may break;
And fruitless all the striving be,
One golden gift is left to make
Man’s bliss, consoling memory.

Hall and farewell, farewell and hall!
The going and the coming guest,
Welcom to daybreak’s shining sail,
As to the night beyond the west!
The years may come, the years may go,
And bring the sad or merry mood;
Merry or sad, one thing we know,
That life is good, life is good!