THE EVENING BEFORE MY BROTHER'S FIFTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY.

Dear Brother, how the time speeds on And leaves its trace upon our forms; The days of sunny youth are gone And age unfits us for the storms That gather oft for you and me— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three. It seems but yesterday since youth Was all aglow within our hearts, But still we recognized the truth, Old age has pierced us with his darts Until from pains we are not free— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three. Long years of toil and anxious care Have left their records all too plain; The failing eye, the snowy hair, The limbs and body racked with pain, Tell tales that all the world can see— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three. Still on life's battlefield we'll fight And win such victories as we may, Believing still that right is might And faithful hearts shall win the day; Then let us shout and sing with glee— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three. And when a few more days are past And we are bowed with years and care, The cheerful sunshine still may last To make declining years more fair; Ah! much I hope that this may be— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three. 'Tis sweet to think of boyhood's days And all the happiness they gave, To summon back life's earliest plays And call lost childhood from its grave; Thus memory gives us victory— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three. Since manhood's form was given me Until this hour, our ways have been In different lines of industry, And scarce have we each other seen; Your birthday's held in memory— To-morrow you'll be fifty-three.