Ah! the year is slowly dying, <br />And the wind in tree-top sighing, <br />Chant his requiem. <br />Thick and fast the leaves are falling, <br />High in air wild birds are calling, <br />Nature's solemn hymn. <br /> <br />In the deep, dark forest lingers, <br />Imprints of his icy fingers, <br />Chill, and dark, and cold. <br />And the little streamlets flowing, <br />Wintry sun so softly glowing, <br />Through the maple's gold. <br /> <br />So, Old Year, gird on your armor, <br />Let not age, nor fear, nor favor, <br />Hurry you along. <br />List! the farewell echoes pealing, <br />List! the midnight hour is stealing, <br />Hark! thy dying song. <br /> <br />Say, Old Year, ere yet your death knell <br />Rings from out you distant church bell, <br />Say, what have you done? <br />Tell of hearts you've sadly broken, <br />Tell of love dead and unspoken, <br />Ere your course is run. <br /> <br />Tell the mother who doth languish, <br />O'er her graves in silent anguish, <br />She will see again, <br />Blooming bright 'beyond the river,' <br />Living on for aye and ever, <br />Every bright-eyed gem. <br /> <br />Ah! full many a spirit weary, <br />You have wooed from paths so dreary, <br />Wafted them above. <br />Now they say Old Year , we bless thee, <br />Raise thy head, we would caress thee <br />For this home of love. <br /> <br />On thy brow lies many a furrow, <br />And thy eyes tell many a sorrow <br />Hath its shadow cast. <br />But thy task is almost ended, <br />Soon the path which thou hast wended, <br />Will be called the ' Past .' <br /> <br />Then, old dying year we hold thee, <br />To our hearts we fondly fold thee, <br />Ere the midnight bell. <br />Soon thy race will now be ended, <br />With Eternity be blended, <br />So, Old Year, farewell.<br /><br />Mary Weston Fordham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/passing-of-the-old-year/
