On New Year’s Eve by Frederic(k) Edward Weatherly

We left behind rich lights that cast
A mingled glow about the room;
We left the farewell-words, and past
With lingering footsteps into gloom;
And “Dying,” sang in mournful swells,
The Year is dying,” rang the bells,
On New Year’s eve.

The farewell-words with wishes blent,
Good wishes for the coming year,
That rang, as down the hill we went
Into the village, on our ear;
And “Dying,” sang in mournful swells,
The Year is dying,” rang the bells,
On New Year’s eve.

A merry party, two by two,
Homeward the shining road we prest,
And paused to hear the bells, and view
The stars asleep on heaven’s wide breast.
And “Dying,” sang in mournful swells,
The Year is dying,” rang the bells,
On New Year’s eve.

Not long: and borne by hands unheard,
The dead Year, in his shadowy pall,
Swept heavenwards, and with whispered word
We parted ’neath the garden-wall.
And “Welcome,” sang in joyful swells,
O Year, we hail thee!” rang the bells,
On New Year’s morn.

1867.

From: Weatherly, Frederick Edward, Muriel, The Sea-King’s Daughter; and Other Poems, 1870, T. Shrimpton & Son: Oxford, p. 101-102.
(https://books.google.com.au/books?id=CbNcAAAAcAAJ)

Date: 1867

By: Frederic(k) Edward Weatherly (1848-1929)

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