 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
WRITTEN IN JANUARY, 1833.
The old year is gone—so uncivil was I,That I made not a couplet to bid him good bye,
But now that the new year has fairly come in,
Not to bid him a welcome, were surely a sin—
So welcome I bid him, tho' not to myself,
Yet to all who are wealthy in hope or in pelf,
All hearty good fellows to whom life is dear,
I heartily wish you a happy new year.
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And a grave unto him that is tired of life;
To my friends, that they may not have much to forgive,
To my foes, that they just may forget that I live;
To my love—that her charms may to her be a blessing,
Tho' to me I confess, they are rather distressing—
For the man of her choice may good fortune await him,
And then—why, I'll try very hard not to hate him.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |