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330 FOREST MELODIES.
The pictured joys too bright to last, Which fled with the dying year ?
Ah! Time has borne them on his wing To an eye that has not slept,
And in eternity's archive The record shall be kept.
How well has our part been acted here ?
Our part in the drama of life ? How in the calm of the vanish'd year ?
How 'mid its heartless strife ? And how have we gain'd the smile, or frown
Of Him who rules on high ? How ! The answer is written down
On a scroll that cannot lie!
We will not look upon the past
Too long in vain regret; There are duties in the narrow path
That wait our footsteps yet But ah ! who can disclose the gloom
In the new year folded up ? Or say it does not hide a tomb,
Strew'd o'er with the flowers of hope ?
Yet, yet with confidence we turn
To its untrodden way, While the stars of hope above us burn,
Lit up with a quenchless ray.