From The Old To The New. Lines For The New Year

        I hear the beat of the unresting tide
    On either shore as swiftly on I glide
    With eager haste the narrow channel o'er,
    Which links the floods behind with those before.
    I hear behind me as I onward glide,
    Faint, farewell voices blending with the tide,
    While from beyond, now near, now far away,
    Come stronger voices chiding each delay;
    And drowning, oft, with wild, discordant burst,
    The melancholy minor of the first

"Farewell! farewell! - ye leave us far behind you!" -
    Tis thus the bright-winged Hours sigh from the Past -
"Ye leave us, and the coming ones will find you
    Still vainly dreaming they will ever last, -
Still trifling with the gifts all fresh and glowing,
    Each in its turn will scatter in your way, -
Still chasing airy phantoms, though well-knowing
    That, ere you grasp them, they will melt away -
                                        Farewell! farewell!"

                                        "Haste! haste! haste!" -
        Thus from the Future the voices ring -
        "The air is balmy with breath of spring,
        The waters sleep in the morning light,
        The storms are hushed, and the skies are bright,
                                        Haste! haste! haste!

        "Isles of beauty and bloom are here,
        Groves, whose leafage is never sere,
        Teeming harvests of boundless wealth,
        Peace, and plenty, and buoyant health -
                                        Haste! haste! haste!

        "Joy-bells ring in the sunny air,
        Mirth and music are everywhere, -
        Bend to the oars, and away, away
        While the ripples dance and the breezes play -
                                        Haste! haste! haste!"

"Farewell! farewell! - ye leave us far behind you -
    Us, the lost Hours that would have blessed you so!
Yet, as ye leave us, let our strains remind you
    That we, not empty-handed, Heavenward go.
Records we bear of all the good we brought you, -
    Of all we offered,-all that ye refused, -
Of all the lessons we in patience taught you, -
    Of wasted time, of privilege abused;
To God's tribunal we those records bear,
    Sometime, remember, they will meet you there -
                                        Farewell! farewell!"

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Sweet Evening Bells

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Fellowship With Christ

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Beautiful Artist.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Minniebel

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

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To Miss ---

Time beckons on the hours: the expiring year
    Already feels old Winter's icy breath;
As with cold hands, he scatters on her bier
    The faded glories of her Autumn wreath.
As fleetly as the Summer's sunshine past,
    The Winter's snow must melt; and the young Spring,
Strewing the earth with flowers, will come at last,
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But, though I leave the harbour, where my heart
    Sometime had found a peaceful resting-place,
Where it lay calmly moored; though I depart,
    Yet, let not time my memory quite efface.
'Tis true, I leave no void, the happy home
    To which you welcomed me, will be as gay,
As bright, as cheerful, when I've turned to roam,
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One By One

    One by one, ye are passing, beloved,
        Out of the shadow into the light.
                    One by one,
                Are your tasks all done.
        Ended the toil, and the swift race run.
                Child and maiden, mother and sire,
                    Sister and brother,
                Ye follow each other,
Out of the darkness where we stand weeping,
Weary and faint with our virgil-keeping,
Into die summer-land, peaceful and bright!

    One by one, ye are passing, beloved,
        Out of the darkness round us that lies -
                    One by one,
                Gliding on alone,
        Hearing nor heeding our plaint and moan.
                Friend and lover, the fondest, best,
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Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Onward

Onward, still on! - though the pathway be dreary, -
    Though few be the fountains that gladden the way, -
Though the tired spirit grow feeble and weary,
    And droop in the heat of the toil-burdened day;
Green in the distance the hills of thy Canaan
    Lift their bright heads in a tenderer light,
Where the full boughs with rich fruits overladen
    Spread their luxurious treasures in sight.

Onward, still onward! - around us are falling
    Lengthening shadows as daylight departs;
Up from the past mournful voices are calling,
    Often we pause with irresolute hearts.
Wherefore look backward? - the flower thou didst gather
    Wounded thy hand with the thorn it concealed, -
Onward, and stay not! - the voice of thy Father
    Calls thee to glory and bliss u...

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By And By

        God will not let His bright gifts die
If I may not sing my songs just now
        I shall sing them by and by


A young man with a Poet's soul,
    And a Poet's kindling eye -
Dark, dreamy, full of unvoiced thought -
    And forehead calm and high,
Toiled wearily at his heavy task
    Till his soul grew sick with pain,
And the pent up fires that burned within
    Seemed withering heart and brain

"Work, work, work!" he murmured low,
    Glancing up at the golden west -
Work, with the sunset heavens aglow
    By the hands of angels dressed,
Work for this perishing, human clay,
    While the soul, like a prisoned bird,
Flutters its helpless wings always
    By passionate longings stirred

"I hear in the wandering...

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Under The Snow

    Over the mountains, under the snow
Lieth a valley cold and low,
'Neath a white, immovable pall,
Desolate, dreary, soulless all,
And soundless, save when the wintry blast
Sweeps with funeral music past.

    Yet was that valley not always so,
For I trod its summer-paths long ago;
And I gathered flowers of fairest dyes
Where now the snow-drift heaviest lies;
And I drank from rills that, with murmurous song,
Wandered in golden light along
Through bowers, whose ever-fragrant air
Was heavy with perfume of flowrets fair, -
Through cool, green meadows where, all day long,
The wild bee droned his voluptuous song;
While over all shone the eye of Love
In the violet-tinted heavens above.

    And through that valley ran veins of gold,
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The Old Church Choir

    I am slowly treading the mazy track
That leadeth, through sunshine and shadows, back -
Through freshest meads where the dews yet cling
As erst they did to each lowly thing,
Where flowers bloom and where streamlets flow
With the tender music of long ago -
To the far-off past that, through mists of tears,
In its spring time loveliness still appears,
And wooes me back to the gleaming shore
Of sunny years that return no more.

    And to night, all weary, and sad, and lone,
I return in thought to those bright years flown,
Whose lingering sweetness, e'en yet, I feel
Like the breath of flower-scents over me steal
I am treading o'er mounds where the dead repose, -
I am stirring the dust of life's perished rose, -
I am rustling the withered leaves that lie

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)