Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

203
Rises soaring to heaven in its rapturous flight,
And, led ever on by the radiance they fling,
Tracketh star after star through infinitude's night.
How oft doth the seer from his watch-tower on high.
Scan the depths of the heavens with his wonderful glass;
And, like Adam of old, when Earth's creatures went by,
Name the orbs and the sun-lighted spheres as they pass.
How often, when drooping, and weary, and worn,
With fire-throbbing temples and star-dazzled eyes,
Does he turn from his glass at the breaking of morn,
And exchanges for flowers all the wealth of the skies?
Ah! thus should we mingle the far and the near,
And, while striving to pierce what the Godhead conceals,
From the far heights of Science look down with a fear
To the lowliest truths the same Godhead reveals.
When the rich fruit of Joy glads the heart and the mouth,
Or the bold wing of Thought leads the daring soul forth;
Let us proudly look up as for flowers of the south,
Let us humbly look down as for flowers of the north.
THE YEAR-KING.
It is the last of all the days,
The day on which the Old Year dies.
Ah! yes, the fated hour is near;
I see upon his snow-white bier
Outstretched the weary wanderer lies,
And mark his dying gaze.
A thousand visions dark and fair,
Crowd on the old man's fading sight;
A thousand mingled memories throng
The old man's heart, still green and strong;
The heritage of wrong and right
He leaves unto his heir.
He thinks upon his budding hopes,