I wish you all a Happy New Year!
Today (rather than February) seemed the appropriate day for this text which
is from "The Photographic and Fine Art Journal" (February 1854) page 51-52.
As M. A. Root often featured a few lines of poetry in his newspaper
advertisements for his galleries, I am supposing that this was written for
placement in a New York newspaper and then later submitted to the PFAJ.
- - - - - - - - - -
T H E P O E T R Y O F D A G U E R R E O T Y P I N G .
Mr. ROOT, of New York, shows his talent for poesy as well as for
daguerreotyping, in the following, which he presents to his patron's as a New-
Year's offering:--
FIFTY-THREE AND FIFTY-FOUR.
Ring out the bells and shout with glee,
This glorious New-Year's morn;
Away with care and misery!
To-day a year is born.
So ever let our New-Years be,
As they have been of yore,
And as we sang in Fifty-three,
We'll sing in Fifty-four.
We will not be too grave of face,
Though Time be flying fast;
'Tis not the hour, 'tis not the place,
Sad horoscopes to case;
Nor yet too thoughtless may we be,
but sometimes ponder o'er
The woes we felt in Fifty-three,
and may in Fifty-four.
The heart that's warm or soul that's true
Avoids the fierce extreme--
Has truth, and truth alone in view;
And is what it doth seem;
No false pretense shall ever be
Laid justly at its door--
For as it was in Fifty-three,
It is in Fifty-four.
Then be not sad, nor over gay,--
Let Reason rule the hour,
Her temperate commands obey,
And own her genial power;
What though we toss on Passion's sea,
Where furious tempests roar!
Hope steered us safe through Fifty-three,
and will through Fifty-four.
Last night, as Evening's curtain rolled
Adown the darkening West,
And hid those floating isles of gold
That watch the sun to rest,
I chanced in a fair hall to be,
Where Art had heaped her store,--
Her home in Fifty-four.
'Twas there the fair Enchantress Art,
Sole Empress; reigned supreme;
There wrote the language of the heart,
With Sol's translucent beam;
There dwelt she in her majesty,
And proud her sceptre bore,
All through the year of Fifty-three,
And will through Fifty-four.
There thronged a mighty multitude:
Old Age with silver hair;
The Man that like the gnarled oak stood;
The maid so wondrous fair;
The laughing eyes of infancy;
The look that Manhood wore;
All gathered there in Fifty-three,
And will in Fifty-four.
There too I saw the "Old Arm Chair,"
And thoughts of sadness stole,
Like, the soft light that lingered there,
Down through my dreaming soul;
For then the past came back to me--
The dear old days of yore--
Long ere the dawn of Fifty-three,
Yet fresh in Fifty-four.
There, too, I saw the bold and brave,
Whose names have graced the age;
Though slumbering in the silent grave,
Safe through life's pilgrimage,
As real seemed they there to me,
As, some short time before,
I saw alive in Fifty-three,
The dead of Fifty-four.
And many wondrous things I saw;
But, chief of all the throng,
I bowed myself in humble awe
Where Jordan rolled along--
For there my wondering eyes did see,
And long did ponder o'er
The Palestine of Fifty-three,
Shown here in Fifty-four.
Upon the mount of Olives then
I seemed in truth to stand,
And gazed o'er Kedron's lonely glen,
Where strayed the chosen band;
Jerusalem and Gallilee
Spread all the eye before,
As erst they lay in Fifty-three,
And will in Fifty-four.
There Nazareth and Bethlehem,
And Zion's Mountain rose,--
Sad Landmarks, for they spoke of HIM,
The man of many woes,
Who through long years of poverty
Oft trod their pathways o'er,
For all who were in Fifty-three,
Or are in Fifty-four.
Then turned me to our own fair land,
For Art hath lingered here,
And at her self enforced command
A thousand scenes appear;
For here her dwelling-place will be--
Her home for evermore--
The glorious Queen of Fifty-three,
Supreme in Fifty-four.
The Grecian Artist's pencil drew
Such wondrous counterfeit,
That birds upon the canvass flew,
And strove the fruit to eat;
But wonders greater still we see
Upon our native shore,
Where Art has strayed in Fifty-three,
And will in Fifty-four.
For art and nature here have joined
As partners with the Sun,
And in one ROOT have all combined,
And now they work as one;
Of what they do, 'tis not for me
More closely to explore;
You saw it all in Fifty-three
Or may in Fifty-four.
'Tis time to end this rambling rhyme,
Kind reader, Au revoir!
I'll call again another time,
and tell what more I saw,
As in Broadway, three sixty-three,
I strayed an hour or more--
As you have done in Fifty-three,
Or will in Fifty-four.
There pictures that may challenge all
That Art hath ever done,
Since Father Adam's direful fall,
To all the world are shown!
And though they won the victory
Full many a time of yore,
The choicest gems of Fifty-three
Are beat by Fifty-four.
There go, and while you rove at will
As through a gay parterre,
Forget not, though you may be still
All young and strong and fair,
Another year there may not be
For you or yours in store;
For what was bright in Fifty-three
May fade in Fifty-four.
Improve the present--Time and Death
Go hand in hand for aye;
The flower that blushed in morning's breath
May wither with the day;
Trust not the Future--none can see
Beyond its gloomy dour;
But seize the shade of Fifty-three
E'er barred by Fifty-four.
Once more, Farewell! May Love and Peace,
Long Life and sweet Content,
Keep even with the year's increase--
By favoring Heaven sent;
In Fifty-five I hope to be
Your dutiful once more,
To sing; as now of Fifty-three,
A song of Fifty-four.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Posted for your enjoyment. Gary W. Ewer
--------------------------------------------------------------
01-01-98 |
| ||||
 | ||||
|
