Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Every Year
By Albert Pike (18091891)L
Every year;
For the weak are heavier crosses
Every year;
Lost Springs with sobs replying
Unto weary Autumns’ sighing,
While those we love are dying
Every year.
Every year;
The nights more weight of sadness
Every year;
Fair Springs no longer charm us,
The winds and weather harm us,
The threats of Death alarm us,
Every year.
Every year;
Dark days and darker morrows,
Every year;
The ghosts of dead loves haunt us,
The ghosts of changed friends taunt us,
And disappointments daunt us,
Every year.
Every year,
As the loved leave vacant places,
Every year;
Everywhere the sad eyes meet us,
In the evening’s dusk they greet us,
And to come to them entreat us,
Every year.
“Every year;
“You are more alone,” they tell us,
“Every year;
“You can win no new affection,
You have only recollection,
Deeper sorrow and dejection,
“Every year.”
Every year;
And we are seaward drifting
Every year;
Old places, changing, fret us,
The living more forget us,
There are fewer to regret us,
Every year.
Every year;
And its Morning-star climbs higher,
Every year;
Earth’s hold on us grows slighter,
And the heavy burthen lighter,
And the Dawn Immortal brighter,
Every year.