 | Poems of reflection |  |
26
A NEW YEAR'S GREETING TO THE CITY OF THE LAKES.
I said “I will write a greeting,
To the City of the Lakes,
Write, while the city sleepeth,
And sing it when it wakes.
To the City of the Lakes,
Write, while the city sleepeth,
And sing it when it wakes.
“To this fair, and blessed city,
That the glad New Year doth bring
Its best, and its sweetest treasure,
Its choicest offering.
That the glad New Year doth bring
Its best, and its sweetest treasure,
Its choicest offering.
“It brings to our joyful Nation,
The boon of Peace again,
The fields are white, not scarlet,
With the death-blood of the slain.
The boon of Peace again,
The fields are white, not scarlet,
With the death-blood of the slain.
“And not with the sounds of sobbing,
Do we usher in the year,
Not with hand clasps, and partings,
But with goodly mirth and cheer.
Do we usher in the year,
Not with hand clasps, and partings,
But with goodly mirth and cheer.
27
“And brother shall meet with brother,
In peace, from North to South,
And ‘I wish you a happy New Year,’
Shall echo from mouth to mouth.
In peace, from North to South,
And ‘I wish you a happy New Year,’
Shall echo from mouth to mouth.
“And there shall be feast, and revel,
In many a home, to-day,
(God grant that the wine be banished
From every board away.)
In many a home, to-day,
(God grant that the wine be banished
From every board away.)
“Thank God for his righteous goodness,
For a land not red with strife—
Thank God for the New Year's blessing,
Thank God for the boon of life.
For a land not red with strife—
Thank God for the New Year's blessing,
Thank God for the boon of life.
“Oh! beautiful white-robed city,
Asleep in the arms of Lakes,
I write me a song while it slumbers,
And I'll sing me a song when it wakes.”
Asleep in the arms of Lakes,
I write me a song while it slumbers,
And I'll sing me a song when it wakes.”
And thus while I dreamed, and pondered,
O'er the glad song I would sing,
Lo! I saw the sun was rising,
And my muse had taken wing.
O'er the glad song I would sing,
Lo! I saw the sun was rising,
And my muse had taken wing.
| Poems of reflection | |