 | The ghost's entry and other poems |  |
148
A DYING YEAR
As when upon some mighty battle-plainThe King has fallen and all his army knows
One common thrill goes through the myriad heart
For there he lies, breathing last breaths away,
So dear, so dear to all, he seems to lean
His sunken head on every soldier's breast:
So the Year dies; so, dying, seems to leave
His fallen head upon the heart of all.
| The ghost's entry and other poems | |