IT PASSED like the breath of the night-wind away, <br />It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day; <br />It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled, <br />Another increase to the age of the world. <br /> <br />It passed with its shadows, its smiles and its tears, <br />It passed as a stream to the ocean of years; <br />Years that were coming—were here—and are o’er, <br />The ages departed to visit no more. <br /> <br />It passed, but the bark on its billowy track <br />Leaves an impression on waters aback: <br />The glow of the gloaming remains on the sky, <br />Unwilling to leave us—unwilling to die. <br /> <br />It fled; but away and away in its wake <br />There lingers a something that time cannot break. <br />The past and the future are joined by a chain, <br />And memories live that must ever remain.<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-year-2/
