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137
THE OLD YEAR.
The white dawn glimmered, and he said, “'T is day!”
The east was reddening, and he sighed “Farewell,”—
The herald Sun came forth, and he was dead.
The east was reddening, and he sighed “Farewell,”—
The herald Sun came forth, and he was dead.
Life was in all his veins but yestermorn,
And ruddy health seemed laughing on his lips;
Now he is dust, and will not breathe again!
And ruddy health seemed laughing on his lips;
Now he is dust, and will not breathe again!
Give him a place to lay his regal head,
Give him a tomb beside his brothers gone,
Give him a tablet for his deeds and name.
Give him a tomb beside his brothers gone,
Give him a tablet for his deeds and name.
Hear the new voice that claims the vacant throne,
Take the new hand outstretched to meet thy kiss,
But give the Past—'t is all thou canst—thy tears!
Take the new hand outstretched to meet thy kiss,
But give the Past—'t is all thou canst—thy tears!
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