The Old and the New

I waited for the midnight, when the knell
Of the OLD YEAR should sound — or seem to sound — 
Followed by mellow peals that greet the New; 
For the sweet singers of the world have made 
This myth familiar as the melodies 
That, by our mothers sung, soothed oft to sleep 
The busy brain of childhood. In my palm 
Rested my cheek, as drowsily I read 
The wondrous story of "Aurora Leigh," 
Its subtle fancies mingling with the thoughts 
That were half dreams and half realities, 
Till all were lost in vague unconsciousness.

A moment passed; when, suddenly, the stroke
Of midnight pulsed upon the listening air.
And a weird voice, sad as the moaning sea,
With echoes numberless as lapsing waves,
Filled all the dark with “The Old Year is dead!"

Then, in an instant, I became aware 
Of a soft light, such as a full-orbed moon 
Shining through pictured oriels might make, 
And it grew near and broadened, till the room 
Was filled with rosy lustre — not of dawn, 
For midnight still maintained its sovereignty; 
And gleeful sounds, half laughter and half song, 
Came floating to me on that wave of light. 
They seemed the voices of all happy things 
Exulting in young life, clear-toned with joy, 
And rounded to sweet rhythm by faith and love, 
And still their burden was, "Rejoice! rejoice!"

And then the hills took up the glad refrain, 
And tossed it, each to each, and to the vales 
That clasp their feet and fatten from their spoils, 
And to the rivers hurrying to the sea, 
And to the broad savannas, till it seemed 
The air was full of voices jubilant 
Shouting, "Rejoice! rejoice!"

                                    So I looked up, 
And lo! that wondrous light that filled my room, 
Seemed less a light than a translucent mist, 
That stirred, and waved, and rolled upon itself, 
And in, and in, as if a sentient soul 
Fashioned its convolutions, till at length, 
With gradual change, they took a human shape,
Which stood before me like a blooming youth, 
Perfect in limb and regal in his look, 
And radiant in beauty. From his face 
Shone benedictions, and his hands were filled 
With gifts unnumbered for his worshippers. 
Hopes, loves, and joys, on gossamery wings, 
Hovered around him, making all the air 
Rose-hued and odorous and most musical; 
While from their lips, in rippling undertone, 
Flowed snatches of sweet song, and rhythmic chants,
And gratulations. Then said I, " They best 
Can greet the NEW YEAR’S coming (for my soul 
Knew that bright visitant) who best have kept 
Faith with the OLD, and freighted its swift hours 
With their great thoughts and godlike purposes 
Translated nobly into noble deeds! 
The good man stands advanced one golden step 
On the bright ladder that conducts to heaven! 
The wronged stands nearer to his sure redress! 
The bondman to the boon for which he pines! 
The o'erwearied toiler to his wished-for rest! 
The Christian hero to his victory! 
Therefore, let these rejoice! "

                                    "Let all rejoice," 
Said the bright Presence, "that another year 
Dawns, for the evil to redeem their past,
And for the righteous to perfect their work, 
And for the sorrowing to forget their grief, 
And for the happy to diffuse their joy; 
And, most of all, that wrong anears its doom, 
And Earth — through all her sorrow dear to God 
Hastes to her glorious millennium!"

The voice sank into silence, and the form 
Lustrous with beauty, faded from my gaze 
As sunset tints fade from the twilight heavens: 
And, questioning my soul, I sat alone.