  To thee, my friend, I wish a happy year, With friendship true, and with a heart sincere; May this new year a bounteous blessing prove, And calm the bosom of the friend I love. May that connubial tie from her be loosed, Till some fond Damon shall the bondage choose; And then with care she’ll mind the nicest part— Join not the hand till you have won the heart. There needs no caution, then, methinks she’ll say; And with a flirt she throws my scroll away. But still I see her take it up anew, And say, “I’ll read,”—because her heart is true. The happy year again the theme she’ll lend, With anxious wishes for our absent friends: May the dark curtain of the winter scene Be calmy drawn, and spring-time blessings bring. Then let the gales be gentle, kind and sure, And speed the barque on this her destined tour; While May’s sweet breezes waft them gently home, Ladened with riches from a foreign clime. Then their return will crown the jocund year: Old friends, old scenes, and all they hold most dear Will crowd around, and fill each heart with love— Each voice with thanks to him who reigns above. |
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