  The wintry moon was streaming Through the window, silvery-clear, And I sat in my study, dreaming Sweet dreams of the coming year. There was no sound save the laughter Of flames on the gusty hearth, As hour followed fleet hour after To welcome the Year with mirth. Then, sharp through the solemn quiet, I heard in the gloomy hall The scamper of mice run riot, And I heard them in the wall. I leaned on my hand and listened To hear the cravens go, While paler the moonbeams glistened And the fire on the hearth burned low. And was I awake, or sleeping, That, close by the door, I heard The voice of a woman weeping The sigh of a farewell word? And was it the night wind mocking That tapped and opened the door, Or was it a woman knocking And a light step on the floor? I saw at my side a maiden With tears in her gentle eyes, And her shapely arms were laden With gems from time’s argosies. On her brow was a white star shining, On her breast was a lily fair; But of rue was a sad wreath twining Among her golden hair. From my chair to her dear side springing, I greeted her with a kiss, For I thought her the New Year, bringing New uncut jewels of bliss. She blushed at my warm embraces And joy in her sweet face shone, As sunlight a shadow chases While a summer cloud floats on. I said: “I have long been yearning, New Year, to behold thy face.” Pale grew the maid, and, turning, She shrank from my close embrace, And wept: “Oh! thou fickle hearted The depth of my love to prove, Yet ere from my bosom parted To sigh for an untried love. “I brought thee the rarest treasures Time’s treasury could bestow; I sated thy days with pleasures, And guarded thy heart from woe. “Thy wish I refused thee never. I granted thee love and peace; Yet thou scornest me now, or ever My labor for thee doth cease. “See, here are the gifts I showered Thy life’s pathway upon, And now that thou hast been dowered With all, canst thou wish me gone? “O thankless heart, wilt thou never Be satisfied with thy lot, Or must thou be pining ever For joys that as yet are not? “And turn from my fond embraces An utter unknown to greet, As a child a butterfly chases Treading flowers beneath his feet?” Then, like the great sun springing Through night to a tropic dawn, My heart, to the Old Year clinging, Yearned for the joys nigh gone. And oh, what a wave of sorrow Passed over my grieving soul, As I thought of the new to-morrow That led to some unknown goal! “Oh, stay,” I cried, soul-shaken, “Heed not the flight of time, Oh stay,”—But I was forsaken, And heard the New Year chime. |
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