1861–62.
The year goes out in weeds and melancholy:
Sing him a requiem for his soul's release:
Give him a sprig of cypress with his holly,
And let him go in peace.
Farewell to Sixty-One! Forget his failings,
Or make them precious for our future weal;
Leave with the passing shade our fruitless wailings,
And on with hearts of steel.
For see the brave new year the field has taken,
All faithful to the hour—his soldiers we.
There is no time to weep like maids forsaken,
If we would faithful be.
Gird us each one, and to our posts of duty—
For be they great or small 'tis all the same;
Obedience has in all an equal beauty,
Neglect an equal shame.
Then lead us on to failures or successes,
We'll take with equal thanks what may befal;
The heart that stands by Right thro' all confesses
An equal gain in all.
And while the unknown Fates are busy spinning
The warp that gives our webs their varied hue,
A thousand welcomes and a brave beginning
We give to Sixty-two.
