  I As one in sorrow looks upon The dead face of a loyal friend, By the dim light of New Year's dawn I saw the Old Year end. Upon the pallid features lay The dear old smile—so warm and bright Ere thus its cheer had died away In ashes of delight. The hands that I had learned to love With strength of passion half divine, Were folded now, all heedless of The emptiness of mine. The eyes that once had shed their bright Sweet looks like sunshine, now were dull, And ever lidded from the light That made them beautiful. II The chimes of bells were in the air, And sounds of mirth in hall and street, With pealing laughter everywhere And throb of dancing feet: The mirth and the convivial din Of revelers in wanton glee, With tunes of harp and violin In tangled harmony. But with a sense of nameless dread, I turned me, from the merry face Of this newcomer, to my dead; And, kneeling there a space, I sobbed aloud, all tearfully:— By this dear face so fixed and cold, O Lord, let not this New Year be As happy as the old! |
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