Believe me, dear patrons, I have wand'red too far, <br />Without any compass, or planet or star; <br />My dear native village I scarcely can see <br />So I'll hie to my hive like the tempest-tost bee. <br />Hail home! sacred home! to my soul ever dear; <br />Abroad may be wonders but rapture is here. <br />My future ambition will never soar higher <br />Than the clean brushed hearth and convivial fire; <br />Here I lounge at my pleasure, and bask at my ease, <br />Full readily sooth'd, and desirous to please, <br />As happy myself as I happy can be, <br />I wish all the circle as happy as me. <br />But hark what a clatter! the Jolly bells ringing, <br />The lads and the lasses so jovially singing, <br />Tis New-Years they shout and then haul me along <br />In the mdist of their merry-make Juvenile throng; <br />But I burst from their grasp: unforgetful of duty <br />To first pay obeisence to wisdom and Beauty, <br />My conscience and int'rest unite to command it, <br />And you, my kind PATRONS, deserve & demand it. <br />On your patience to trespass no longer I dare, <br />So bowing, I wish you a Happy New Year.<br /><br />Henry Livingston Jr.<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1819-new-year-s-carrier-s-address/
