Classic Poem

I

The Old Year on his couch was laid
Like an aged King forsaken,
In his need by those betrayed
Who had loved him and obeyed.
They had fled, alas! and left
That Old Man to pine away,
Of his state and strength bereft;
Fallen from him like leaves shaken
From the oak in winter's day,
When the birds their flight have taken
To realms of a brighter ray,
When the breeze no answers waken
From its branches seared and grey.

II

S PRING had loved him in his youth;
With clear brow and joyous eye
She beside him stood like Truth,
Smiling as she tended nigh,
With the golden crocus bound
Round her amaranthine hair,
And her brow with violets crowned;
While the young Hours round them flew,
Till youth seemed as if it were
An immortal green that grew
From her life embodied there.
But, at last, thought overcast
Her pure forehead, for she felt
ThaTher pensile flowerets failed,
And their finer breath exhaled,
When air sultrier round them dwelt;
Then she gently from him passed,
For she knew her Sister came
Nearer, with her torch of flame.