 | [Poems by Woolson in] Constance Fenimore Woolson |  |
THE HERALD'S CRY.
I.
Through the frost, through the ice, through the snow-flakes,Through the blackness of darkness on high,
Borne along on the wings of the north wind,
In the midnight there cometh a cry:
“Waken, world! Waken world! from thy dreaming—
Mount and ride, mount and ride toward the gleaming
Where the first tints of morning are beaming,
On the cold, hopeless gloom of the sky.”
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II.
Out beyond the dim realms of the midnight,On the border where shadows lie curled,
Comes the King with his shining attendants—
Comes the King with his banners unfurled;
Above him new perfumes are shedding,
Before him new glory is spreading,
Around him new millions are treading,
Thronging in, thronging in to the world.
III.
Bid them hail, bid them hail as they enter,Wide open your heart-portals fling;
The new souls, the new hopes, the new trials,
New strength and new blessings will bring;
Give thy cares to the past, dim and hoary,
Turn the page on the Old Year's sad story;
He is dead, he is dead, and the glory
Shines now on the incoming King.
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IV.
Ride away, ride away toward the eastward,O'er the hilltop the banners appear;
Linger not, linger not in the shadow
Where the past seeks its sepulchre drear;
Leave behind thee, O sinner, thy madness,
Leave behind thee, O mourner thy sadness,
Look beyond, look above, and with gladness,
Welcome in, welcome in the New Year!
Constance Fenimore Woolson.
| [Poems by Woolson in] Constance Fenimore Woolson | |