Griselda A Tragedy: And Other Poems. By Edwin Arnold |
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NEW YEAR'S EVE,
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 | Griselda |  |
254
NEW YEAR'S EVE,
1852-53.
Come! for all the gifts he brought ye; come, for all the good he taught ye;
For the many a brightened blessing, for the many a lightened woe;
Leave your ingles warm and cheery, gaze into the midnight dreary,
Where the old year lies a-dying,—dying in the frost and snow;
Gaze, and while his heavy breathing rises like the mists a-wreathing;
While the far stars shake and shudder at the passing of his soul;
When the death draws ever nearer, and the drear night waxes drearer,
Chaunt your “miserere mei” solemnly, and toll the toll,
Toll a funeral toll on the bell,
Strike the strings to a farewell song;
Dying is he we have known so well,
Dead the friend we have loved so long.
For the many a brightened blessing, for the many a lightened woe;
Leave your ingles warm and cheery, gaze into the midnight dreary,
Where the old year lies a-dying,—dying in the frost and snow;
Gaze, and while his heavy breathing rises like the mists a-wreathing;
While the far stars shake and shudder at the passing of his soul;
When the death draws ever nearer, and the drear night waxes drearer,
Chaunt your “miserere mei” solemnly, and toll the toll,
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Strike the strings to a farewell song;
Dying is he we have known so well,
Dead the friend we have loved so long.
Dead, but when the song is ending let a sudden eager blending
Sweep away the sound of mourning from the silver bells and strings;
Over town and hamlet ringing, let the merry song go singing
Welcome to the Young Year's beauty, and the blessed gifts she brings;
Greet her for the apple-blossoms wreathed about her budding bosoms,
Love her for the sunny days her barley-braided hair foretells,
Bless her for the pleasant plenty,—grape and grain that God hath sent ye;
Laud her! though we live to lose her in the snow, and chime the bells.
Chime the bells to a marriage chime,
Strike the strings to a birthday song,
For the fairest daughter of father Time,
For the lady who cometh to live with us long.
Sweep away the sound of mourning from the silver bells and strings;
Over town and hamlet ringing, let the merry song go singing
Welcome to the Young Year's beauty, and the blessed gifts she brings;
Greet her for the apple-blossoms wreathed about her budding bosoms,
Love her for the sunny days her barley-braided hair foretells,
Bless her for the pleasant plenty,—grape and grain that God hath sent ye;
Laud her! though we live to lose her in the snow, and chime the bells.
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Strike the strings to a birthday song,
For the fairest daughter of father Time,
For the lady who cometh to live with us long.
| Griselda | |