by W. H. Rhodes
[Decoration]
XVII.
_THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW._
One more flutter of time's restless wing, One more furrow in the forehead of spring; One more step in the journey of fate, One more ember gone out in life's grate; One more gray hair in the head of the sage, One more round in the ladder of age; One leaf more in the volume of doom, And one span less in the march to the tomb, Since brothers, we gathered around bowl and tree, And Santa Claus welcomed with frolic and glee.
How has thy life been speeding Since Aurora, at the dawn, Peeped within thy portals, leading The babe year, newly born?
Has thy soul been scorched by sorrow, Has some spectre nestled there? And with every new to-morrow, Sowed the seeds of fresh despair? Rise from thy grief, my brothers! Burst its chain with strength sublime, For behold! I bring another, And a fairer child of time.
Has the year brought health and riches? Have thy barns been brimming o'er? Will thy stature fit the niches Hewn for Hercules of yore? Are thy muscles firm as granite? Are thy thousands safe and sound? Behold! the rolling planet Starts on a nobler round.
But perhaps across thy vision Death had cast its shadow there, And thy home, once all elysian, Now crapes an empty chair; Or happier, thy dominions, Spreading broad and deep and strong, Re-echo 'neath love's pinions To a pretty cradle song!
Whate'er thy fortunes, brother! God's blessing on your head; Joy for the living mother, Peace with the loving dead.
[Decoration]
