 | Lyrical Poems |  |
155
NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1871
We have look'd for thee long;—and behold thee,
Ice at the heart, tear frozen on tear;
Snowdrifts and sorrow the robes that enfold thee,
O bitter New Year!
Ice at the heart, tear frozen on tear;
Snowdrifts and sorrow the robes that enfold thee,
O bitter New Year!
Thou art come; and the light of thy morning
Lurid arises and baleful and drear;
Blood-stain'd the world; skies ruthless and scorning,
O bitter New Year!
Lurid arises and baleful and drear;
Blood-stain'd the world; skies ruthless and scorning,
O bitter New Year!
Oft of science and peace they have told us;
Songs of advance too loud in our ear:
War and red ravin and hatred enfold us
In the bitter New Year!
Songs of advance too loud in our ear:
War and red ravin and hatred enfold us
In the bitter New Year!
156
Thou art come: and the breath of thy coming
Scorches with carnage and freezes with fear;
Flame at thy lips, but flame icy and numbing,
O bitter New Year!
Scorches with carnage and freezes with fear;
Flame at thy lips, but flame icy and numbing,
O bitter New Year!
For the mother is cold by the cradle,
Babes in the bosom shrivell'd and sere;
Brides at the bridal for silver have sable
In the bitter New Year.
Babes in the bosom shrivell'd and sere;
Brides at the bridal for silver have sable
In the bitter New Year.
And the young men of France in the trenches,
Old men and infants are stiff on the bier:—
Yet the brave heart of the land never blenches
In the bitter New Year!
Old men and infants are stiff on the bier:—
Yet the brave heart of the land never blenches
In the bitter New Year!
From the fields of defeat and betrayal
Once more, when all appear'd lost, they are here;
Once more enrank'd for thy dreadful assayal,
O bitter New Year!
Once more, when all appear'd lost, they are here;
Once more enrank'd for thy dreadful assayal,
O bitter New Year!
They may go like the thousands before them,
Dying for France, the down-trodden, the dear:
Yet on their deathbed her glory is o'er them
In the bitter New Year.
Dying for France, the down-trodden, the dear:
Yet on their deathbed her glory is o'er them
In the bitter New Year.
157
Though the furnace be seven-fold heated,
Forth will she leap, resplendent and clear:
Purged of her dross, though forlorn and defeated
In the bitter New Year!
Forth will she leap, resplendent and clear:
Purged of her dross, though forlorn and defeated
In the bitter New Year!
Till renew'd in the strength of her splendour,
Purer and prouder her face she will rear:
And thou for each burden a blessing wilt render,
O bitter New Year!
Purer and prouder her face she will rear:
And thou for each burden a blessing wilt render,
O bitter New Year!
| Lyrical Poems | |