The golden time of Long Ago. - William Winter

White sail upon the ocean verge,
Just crimsoned by the setting sun,
Thou hast thy port beyond the surge,
Thy happy homeward course to run
And winged hope, with heart of fire,
To gain the bliss of thy desire.

His love was like the liberal air,—
Embracing all, to cheer and bless;
And every grief that mortals share
Found pity in his tenderness.

Though all the bards of earth were dead,
And all their music passed away,
What Nature wishes should be said
She’ll find the rightful voice to say.