Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries:
The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new lights through chinks that time has made.
Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become,
As they draw nearer to their eternal home,
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.”
POETRY.