University of Virginia Library


320

SONNET TO THE OLD YEAR.

Thou slumberest with the past, old forty-four,
But thou hast left thy footprints on the earth,
And good will grow thereon; yet at thy birth
How many hearts grew glad, that throb no more!
Mine was distraught, and aching to the core,
When jolly winter brought thee by the hand
To claim allegiance for thee; bright and bland
Thou gav'st me merry morning at the door.
'Twas answered with good will, and I forgot
In thy blithe presence my untoward lot,
Grew bold and cheerful, resolute to thrive;
Alas for my resolves! behold me now
Receive with scanty store and care-worn brow
Thy young successor, hopeful forty-five!