William Billington Poems

A FLOWER hath faded from my heart's own garden,
Whose blossoms should have gemmed the crown of Life,
Alas for me! Hope's golden day was marred in
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I, WHO have stood unharmed through one long week
Of centuries, whilst wrestling with my foe,
Have ever borne the belt from old King Time,
And though he still the victory doth seek,
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I WANDERED forth to watch the infant Day
Sow diamonds over plain and woodland copse;
The Sun, just glancing o'er the mountains gray,
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LET us sing the praise of Beauty,
For the earth is beautiful,
And the stars are full of beauty
And the skies of stars are full.
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OLD Christmas cometh round
With the snow of ages crowned,
And the weight of one more winter on his brow;
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A Brother dear hath mingled with the dust!
A true Oddfellow,-brethren, was he not
True to his Order-faithful to its trust?
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FAREWELL, old year, for thy death-knell has rung!
One solemn peal, flung from the tower of Time,
Proclaims that to the mighty Past belong
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The might of right, the love of love, the fire
Of hope and aspiration urged him on,
While Prince for peace and freedom tuned his lyre.
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I STOOD upon a steep cloud-haunted hill,
When clear and cloudless was the evening sky;
As bliss fills Heaven, did sacred silence fill
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PURE, Sun, which round my darkened orb of being
Once poured a flood of sanctifying light,
Whose sacred presence makes the soul far-seeing,
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