The Poetical Works of Ernest Christopher Dowson :: :: University of Virginia Library

The bells ring out, the year is born,
And shall we hope or shall we mourn?
Shall we embrace the young, new year,
Or shall we turn back lingering eyes,
To the low bier,
Where in his pall the old year lies?

What shall he bring to men who weep,
To men who laugh and men who sleep,
So very weary of the sun?
Shall one of these men ever gain,
Ah even one,
His heart's desire nor find it vain?

Hope not, fear not: he only bears
The message of the elder years!
A little love, a little pain!
To some a sweet or idle dream,
To some again,
The sleep wherein we do not dream.

Ah sweet, my child, and yet mine own,
Though I must wander on alone,
Love me a little, clasp me still
With thy soft hands, and I will bear
For good or ill
The burden of the coming year.