To Time by Henry Halloran

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Shower down upon this head, oh, Time!   
If such must be thy will,
The snows of age, but let youth's prime
Dwell in my quick heart still;
Sever life's ties, if that must be
The lot of all below,
But let their memory, green and free,
Prevail o'er wastes of snow.

Oh, Mother! sainted name, to whom
My earliest love is due,
My heart o'erleaps the narrow tomb,
And childlike hastes to you:--
Oh, Father! high-souled scholar, where
Doth thy wronged spirit rove?
Throughout starr'd realms to thee
I'd bear My reverence and love.  

Brothers and sisters, playmates fond,
Though scattered now or lost:
My heart still holds you dear, beyond
All worldly aim or cost:
Friends of my youth! tho' later ties
My hopes and thoughts possess,
And rule me, through my children's eyes,--
I ne'er shall love you less.

Age cannot blot, change cannot wrong
The hallow'd claims of old,--  
And trial only makes more strong
Those swathes of virgin gold:--
Then speed thee on, -- but in thy ruth,
Oh, Time! midst age's snow,
Leave the sweet momories of youth,
To cheer me as I go.

First published in The Empire, 3 October 1851

Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on October 3, 2011 6:59 AM.

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