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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409039" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>1866 -- Addressed To The Old Year</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Art thou not glad to close<br>Thy wearied eyes, O saddest child of Time,<br>Eyes which have looked on every mortal crime,<br>And swept the piteous round of mortal woes?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In dark Plutonian caves,<br>Beneath the lowest deep, go, hide thy head;<br>Or earth thee where the blood that thou hast shed<br>May trickle on thee from thy countless graves!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Take with thee all thy gloom<br>And guilt, and all our griefs, save what the breast,<br>Without a wrong to some dear shadowy guest,<br>May not surrender even to the tomb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No tear shall weep thy fall,<br>When, as the midnight bell doth toll thy fate,<br>Another lifts the sceptre of thy state,<br>And sits a monarch in thine ancient hall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">HIM all the hours attend,<br>With a new hope like morning in their eyes;<br>Him the fair earth and him these radiant skies<br>Hail as their sovereign, welcome as their friend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Him, too, the nations wait;<br>&quot;O lead us from the shadow of the Past,&quot;<br>In a long wail like this December blast,<br>They cry, and, crying, grow less desolate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How he will shape his sway<br>They ask not -- for old doubts and fears will cling --<br>And yet they trust that, somehow, he will bring<br>A sweeter sunshine than thy mildest day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beneath his gentle hand<br>They hope to see no meadow, vale, or hill<br>Stained with a deeper red than roses spill,<br>When some too boisterous zephyr sweeps the land.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A time of peaceful prayer,<br>Of law, love, labor, honest loss and gain --<br>These are the visions of the coming reign<br>Now floating to them on this wintry air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Timrod">Henry Timrod</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409039" data-title="1866 -- Addressed To The Old Year de Henry Timrod" data-description="Art thou not glad to close
Thy wearied eyes, O saddest child of Time,
Eyes which have looked on every mortal crime,
And swept the piteous round of mortal woes?

In dark Plutonian caves,
Beneath the lowest deep, go, hide thy head;
Or earth thee whe..."></div>
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