SONG—THE CLOSING YEAR.
Hark—to the midnight bell!
The solemn peal rolls on
That tells us, with an iron tongue,
Another year is gone!
Gone with its hopes, its mockeries and its fears,
To the dim rest which wraps our former years.
Gray pilgrim to the past!
We will not bid thee stay;
For joys of youth and passion’s plaint
Thou bear’st alike away.
Alike the tones of mirth, and sorrow’s swell
Gather to hymn thy parting.—Fare thee well!
Fill high the cup—and drink
To Time’s unwearied sweep!
He claims a parting pledge from us—
And let the draught be deep!
We may not shadow moments fleet as this,
With tales of baffled hopes, or vanished bliss.
No comrade’s voice is here,
That could not tell of grief:—
Fill up!—We know that friendship’s hours,
Like their own joys—are brief.
Drink to their brightness while they yet may last,
And drown in song the memory of the past!
The winter’s leafless bough
In sunshine yet shall bloom;
And hearts that sink in sadness now
Ere long dismiss their gloom.
Peace to the sorrowing! Let our goblets flow,
In red wine mantling, for the tears of wo!
Once more! A welcoming strain!
A solemn sound—yet sweet!
While life is ours, Time’s onward steps
In gladness will we greet!
Fill high the cup! What prophet lips may tell
Where we shall bid another year farewell?