Janet Hamilton

1795-1873 / Scotland

Farewell To The Old Year, 1863

Farewell, old year, 'the bourne' is near,
'Whence traveller ne'er returneth'-
Passing away from time for aye,
Thy life-light faintly burneth.
Farewell, old year, dark shapes of fear,
Grim spectres pale and gory,
Flitting around, with moaning sound,
Tell us thy sad war story.
Farewell, old year, we do not fear
Republic or Imperial-
If war inclined, they both shall find
We're rather tough material.
Farewell, old year, thy past career
Hath given both gloom and gladness;
Thou gave us peace, but no decrease
In human crime and madness.
Farewell, old year, the pall and bier
Thou saw us oft attending,
And heard oft-times the merry chimes
Of birth and wedlock blending.
Farewell, old year, a voice we hear,
How solemnly it falleth-
'All flesh is grass,' prepare to pass,
Ere long the Master calleth!
Farewell, old year, thy knell we hear
Through Time's dark arches sounding;
Wrapt in thy shroud, a dense, dark cloud
Thy solemn bier surrounding.
Farewell, old year, we still have cheer,
Though tinged with doubt and sorrow,
We leave thy urn and gladly turn
To give new year good morrow.
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