Farewell to the Old Year

I.
Good bye, Old Year! thy race is almost run—
          Before thee yawns the grave, in which thy peers
          Lie buried, lost—innumerable years,
That lived—grew old—and died—their errand done.
That grave shall soon be thine—thy latest sun
          Hastes to its settling! Bow thy frosty head,
          As thy last foothold crumbles to the tread
Of thy last Hour, and speak thy benison
          On them—the noble Few—whose alchemy
Hath changed thy moments into more than gold—
Whose liberal hands with blessings manifold
          Have sown the Earth, and striven to make her free!
Bless them, whose radiant lives have brightened thine,
And linked their memory to deeds divine!

II.
Ah, well-a-day! My heart is sad, Old Year!
          To see thee go so soon—for thou and I
          Have, for a twelve-month kept sweet company,
And many an hour have known of pleasant cheer,
And found bright spots of verdure ‘mid the drear
          Sand-wastes of Life. How much to thee I owe,
          Of joy, through grief—of weal, through seeming wo,
I cannot count; but all thy wealth, I fear,
          Hath not been grasped, and on thy scroll may be
Records of hours misspent—of evil done—
Of squandered gifts—of proffered good unwon—
          Sad records—written for Eternity!
Oh, dying Year! thy hours come not again—
Oh, heavy Heart! thou mourn’st the Past in vain!