Farewell To Miss E. B.
(Written in her sixteenth year.)
Farewell, and whenever calm solitude's hour,
Shall silently spread its broad wings o'er your bower,
Oh! then gaze on yon planet, yon watch-fire divine,
And believe that my soul is there mingling with thine.
When the dark brow of evening is beaming with stars,
And yon crest of light clouds is the turban she wears,
When she walks forth in grandeur, the queen of the night,
Oh! then think that my spirit looks on with delight.
O'er the ocean of life our frail vessels are bounding,
And danger and death our dark pathway surrounding;
Destruction's bright meteors are dancing before,
And behind us the winds of adversity roar.
Oh! then come, let us light friendship's lamp on the wave,
If we're lost, it will shed its pure light o'er the grave,
Or 't will guide to the haven of Heaven at last,
And beam on when the voice of the trumpet hath past.
poem by Lucretia Maria Davidson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Heaven & Renaissance in Heaven
Up aloft behind the stars gleam
Heaven's eye on angel's wings
Where in ecstasy in light forever beam
To those who trust in god, god like things
There, children revel in innocent play
In valleys of green and mountains of clouds white'
Never turning dark, and forever day
Like living on a star in dark night
There is no dream for heaven's real
But dreams realized in a soul serene
Its beauty creates a crystalized zeal
Which dictates our will like a heavenly queen
Renaissance in Heaven
A mystic spirit, one sweeps through stars
and gathers all their heavenly light
In far off planets as strange as Mars
My imagination grows, my soul takes flight
Is this heaven whom sleeps in me
Tender love that wets mine eye
To cleanse the sin that I do see
And makes me desire my life to die?
In heaven, in love, my life shall be
With angels pristine as a baby's soul
To heaven, to love, my life with thee
In thine heart, thy heaven lull
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Conscript's Farewell
Farewell, father;—
I had hoped that I should be
In thine age a staff for thee;
But when years have mark'd thy brow,
When thy step is weak and slow,
When thy hair is thin and white,
And thine eye hath lost its light,
I shall never seek thy side,
And thy faltering footsteps guide.
Where my country's banners fly
Proudly ‘neath a distant sky,
To the battle forth I speed,
There to fight and there to bleed;
Not because the foeman's lance
Glitters in the vales of France;
Not because a stranger's mirth
Rises round my father's hearth;
Not at glory's trumpet call,
Nor in freedom's cause to fall;
But because ambitious power
Tears me from my peaceful bower.
Yet amidst the battle strife,
In the closing hours of life,
Think not that my heart shall quail,
Spirit droop, or courage fail.
Where the boldest deed is done,
Where the laurel-wreath is won,
Where the standard eagles fly,
There thy son shall proudly die;
Though, perhaps, no voice may tell
How the nameless conscript fell!
Thy blessing, father.
Farewell, mother;—
It is hard to part from thee,
And my tears are flowing free.
While around thee gloom and night
Quench'd religion's blessed light,
Still thou bad'st my lisping voice
In the evening hymn rejoice;
And my childhood's prayer was said,
Ere thou bless'd my pillow'd head.
Oh, before I leave thee now,
Place thy hand upon my brow,
And with every treasured word,
That my infant ears have heard,
Bless me, mother.
Farewell, brother;—
Many an hour of boyish glee,
I have pass'd in joy with thee;
If with careless act or tongue
I have ever done thee wrong,
Think upon thy brother's lot,
And be all his faults forgot;
Thou may'st dry our mother's tears,
Soothe our sisters’ anxious fears,
Be their shield, their guide, their stay
Throughout many a coming day;
Freely with thy father share
All his secret weight of care;
Be what it were mine to be,
Had I still remain'd with thee,
And love me, brother.
Farewell, sisters;—
Yonder is our favourite vine,
You must now its tendrils twine,
And when ‘neath its leafy bower,
You are met at evening hour,
Think how oft in by-past days,
There we waked the song of praise,
Till your beaming eyes are wet
With the tears of fond regret;
Then together fondly bend,
And your gentle voices blend.
Pray for me, sisters.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Dark Fire
Fire, dark and burning bright
Bright as day, yet, gives no light
In the shadows of the night
Take away immortal sight
Blind soul eyes with black twilight
Banish day and burn the night
Remove sin from Heavens sight
Fire, twist and taint the once pure light
Heaven fought against your might
In the end, He lost the fight
Pure souls surrender to the evil light
As shadows move to reign the night
Angel's wings flutter in fearful flight
In the shadow of your light
Fire, sweet and sin filled bane
Make the devil go insane
As you burn his skin with acid rain
His screams are songs wrought in pain
His wake of Hell’s dark fire wanes
Death and pain are what he gains
Shadows of the devil’s bane
Wash away his sin with His holy name
Fire of the dragon’s heart
Don’t let us tear the world apart
poem by Amanda Swain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Home Of The Spirit
Answer me, burning stars of night,
Where is the spirit gone,
That past the reach of human sight,
As a swift breeze hath flown?
And the stars answer'd me: 'We roll
In light and power on high;
But of the never-dying soul
Ask that which cannot die.'
O many-toned and chainless wind,
Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
Far over mount and sea?
And the wind murmur'd in reply:
'The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
But not what thou hast lost.'
Ye clouds that gorgeously repose
Around the setting sun,
Answer - Have ye a home for those
Whose earthly race is run?
The bright clouds answer'd: 'We depart,
We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart
For that which cannot die.'
Speak, then, thou voice of God within,
Thou of the deep low tone;
Answer me, through life's restless din -
Where is the spirit flown?
And the voice answer'd: 'Be thou still;
Enough to know is given;
Clouds, winds, and stars
their
part fulfil;
Thine
is to trust in Heaven.'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The World's Twilight
The hour has come.
What hour?
The two worlds are combining
What worlds?
The worlds of light and dark
Somethings are only visible in the dark or light
The dark, heartless people can't survive in the light
the heartless are trying to kill you,
run to the light
No light may shine on it.
Any lit room is safe
protect your light
Watch your light
let it burn in the night
expect the unexpected
The hour has come
What hour?
Light and dark are combining
Its the hour of Twilight
A very scary and gloomy sight to see
escepially when someone takes it away.
Every world is cut in half
It has a light side and a dark side
Choose what side you will be on.
Always watch your light
poem by Natalie Vail
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Light is out, Black is in
The light is getting dark
the clouds are turning gray
but i'll be ok
The day turns to night
and it's not going to change
So i'll walk through the streets
to see myself in a different light
The dark catches up and i'm covered
with death and dark
the dark is my new best friend
Through the dark i can control death
Through my death i can see my life
the life that was, is and could have been
with my new found friend comes
the choice of life or death
The dark is good it's new
the light was bad it's old
through the dark new choices arrive
with the light nothing was to choose
The dark is getting darker
but is that good or bad
cause it means death is for sure
I want the light back
I want to see myself not a stranger
poem by Jess Jayne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
November Fifth
Anniversary of the Loss of H.M.S. Tweed
Oh, what relief to gaze on yonder sky,
Where all is holy, calm, and purely bright!
Within, the sound of mirth and revelry
Startles the timid ear of sober night.
And eyes are bright and silver voices thrill,
As the harp echoes through the glittering hall;
The jest is there that wakes the laugh at will,
And mirth has cast her fairy spell o'er all.
I turn, fair spirit of light! where peaceful thou
Art shining in unatler'd majesty;
The thin clouds float across thy placid brow,
And catch its silver beam in passing by.
To-night!—oh! on this night—nor many years
Have wasted, since in sad regret and pain,
Upon the wave, the sound of woe, and tears,
And frantic pray'rs arose—arose in vain!
Thy light was shrouded then in deepest gloom;
On that dark coast no friendly radiance shone
To warn the victims of their gaping tomb—
Despair and death and horror reign'd alone!
Shine on, shine on, thou treacherous planet still;
Gild with thy beams the now untroubled wave:
Alas! thou fair and fatal cause of ill,
Thy smiles are lovely—but too late to save!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Feast Of The Assumption
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead:
Thy Feast has fled;
My eyes are wet with tears unshed;
I bow my head;
Where the star-fringed shadows softly sway
I bend my knee,
And, like a homesick child, I pray,
Mary, to thee.
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And, all the day -- since white-robed priest
In farthest East,
In dawn's first ray -- began the Feast,
I -- I the least --
Thy least, and last, and lowest child,
I called on thee!
Virgin! didst hear? my words were wild;
Didst think of me?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Alas! and no! The angels bright,
With wings as white
As a dream of snow in love and light,
Flashed on thy sight;
They shone like stars around thee, Queen!
I knelt afar --
A shadow only dims the scene
Where shines a star!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And all day long, beyond the sky,
Sweet, pure, and high,
The angel's song swept sounding by
Triumphantly;
And when such music filled thy ear,
Rose round thy throne,
How could I hope that thou wouldst hear
My far, faint moan?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
And all day long, where altars stand,
Or poor or grand,
A countless throng from every land,
With lifted hand,
Winged hymns to thee from sorrow's vale
In glad acclaim;
How couldst thou hear my lone lips wail
Thy sweet, pure name?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Alas! and no! Thou didst not hear
Nor bend thy ear,
To prayer of woe as mine so drear;
For hearts more dear
Hid me from hearing and from sight
This bright Feast-day;
Wilt hear me, Mother, if in its night
I kneel and pray?
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set, the day is dead;
Thy Feast hath fled;
My eyes are wet with the tears I shed;
I bow my head;
Angels and altars hailed thee, Queen,
All day; ah! be
To-night what thou hast ever been --
A mother to me!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Thy queenly crown in angels' sight
Is fair and bright;
Ah! lay it down; for, oh! to-night
Its jeweled light
Shines not as the tender love-light shines,
O Mary! mild,
In the mother's eyes, whose pure heart pines
For poor, lost child!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Sceptre in hand, thou dost hold sway
Fore'er and aye
In angel-land; but, fair Queen! pray
Lay it away.
Let thy sceptre wave in the realms above
Where angels are;
But, Mother! fold in thine arms of love
Thy child afar!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
Mary, I call! Wilt hear the prayer
My poor lips dare?
Yea! be to all a Queen most fair,
Crown, sceptre, bear!
But look on me with a mother's eyes
From heaven's bliss;
And waft to me from the starry skies
A mother's kiss!
Dark! Dark! Dark!
The sun is set; the day is dead;
Her Feast has fled;
Can she forget the sweet blood shed,
The last words said
That evening -- 'Woman! behold thy Son!
Oh! priceless right,
Of all His children! The last, least one,
Is heard to-night.
poem by Abram Joseph Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Voices Of The Night : The Light Of Stars
The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.
There is no light in earth or heaven
But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of night is given
To the red planet Mars.
Is it the tender star of love?
The star of love and dreams?
O no! from that blue tent above,
A hero's armor gleams.
And earnest thoughts within me rise,
When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies,
The shield of that red star.
O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.
Within my breast there is no light
But the cold light of stars;
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars.
The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.
And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.
O fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know erelong,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Light of Stars, The
The night is come, but not too soon;
And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
Drops down behind the sky.
There is no light in earth or heaven
But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of night is given
To the red planet Mars.
Is it the tender star of love?
The star of love and dreams?
O no! from that blue tent above,
A hero's armor gleams.
And earnest thoughts within me rise,
When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies,
The shield of that red star.
O star of strength! I see thee stand
And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
And I am strong again.
Within my breast there is no light
But the cold light of stars;
I give the first watch of the night
To the red planet Mars.
The star of the unconquered will,
He rises in my breast,
Serene, and resolute, and still,
And calm, and self-possessed.
And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art,
That readest this brief psalm,
As one by one thy hopes depart,
Be resolute and calm.
O fear not in a world like this,
And thou shalt know erelong,
Know how sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From This Hour the Pledge is Given
From this hour the pledge is given,
From this hour my soul is thine:
Come what will, from earth of heaven,
Weal or woe, thy fate be mine.
When the proud and great stood by thee,
None dared thy rights to spurn;
And if now they're false and fly thee,
Shall I, too, falsely turn?
No; -- whate'er the fire that try thee,
In the same this heart shall burn.
Though the sea, where thou embarkest,
Offers now no friendly shore,
Light may come where all looks darkest,
Hope hath life, when life seems o'er.
And of those past ages dreaming,
When glory deck'd thy brow,
Oft I fondly think, though seeming
So fallen and clouded now,
Thou'lt again break forth, all beaming --
None so bright, so blest as thou!
poem by Thomas Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Edward
HEAVY is my trembling heart, mine own love, my dearest,
Heavy as the hearts whose love is poured in vain;
All the bright day I watch till thou appearest,
All the long night I dream of thee again.
When the whisp'ring summer breeze is waving o'er me lightly,
When the moaning winter winds their wail of sadness make;
Then dearest, then, thine image riseth brightly,
I am weary of my life, for Edward's sake.
When in the halls of light, all bright and happy faces,
Smiling turn to greet a friend, and wander on
Far through the distant crowd, my heart thy proud form traces,
My eye is sadly fixed on thee alone.
When that dear, familiar voice, some careless word hath spoken,
When thy brow a moment bends, a cold farewell to take;
Then, dearest, then, my heart is well nigh broken,
I am weary of my life, for Edward's sake.
Oh, Edward! dark my doom!--this heart will love for ever,
Though thou wilt never share its joy or pain,
Thine eye will turn to mine, and meet its glance, but never
Beam fondly back on hers who loves in vain.
But when weary life is o'er, and in the grave I'm lying,
(Silently a woman's heart should hide its love and break; )
Then, dearest, then, some voice shall tell thee, sighing,
How weary was my life to me, for Edward's sake.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lost Guide
Lost Guide
Between two worlds, between two side
I don't know which is wrong, And which is all right…
I don't know anything; I am a lost, lost guide…
Something covers my eyes, I can't see any light
Just the dark, the cold, the damn side….
I can't hear any voice, It is so quiet…..
I feel lost, I am lost, lost guide….
Isn't anyone come to me?
Show me the way of me?
Let me see the shinny light….?
Set me free from those dark nights?
There is no one can show me my side
So I'll stay alone and contain my fight
The fight between the dark and the light
Nothing will be all right….
In our days there is no more guide
No one here knows the right
We banned from seeing light
We all lost, lost guides.
poem by SOMY Brkat
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dark Light
Look out, cause theres something wrong
And you dont know what it is
Watch out, or its sodom and gommorah
The malevolent order
Right now, before its much too late
Before its much too late
A dark light---a darkness never ending
A dark light---the devil gets his due
A dark night---is everywhere descending
A dark light---is coming for you
Now look up, well the skies are black
And theyre getting darker all the time
Watch out, for the things that you believe in
Youre gonna be attacked,
And you wont know what it is
Wise up, you better watch your step
You better watch your step
A dark light---a darkness never ending
A dark light---of perversion and hate
A dark night---is everywhere descending
A dark light---theres no time to wait
Look out, for the death of love
There will be no more love
Watch out, its yourself that you are fooling
Who do you think youre fooling
Shout it out, its a terrible thing
Such a terrible thing
A dark light---a darkness never ending
A dark light---the sun is turning cool
A dark night---is everywhere descending
A dark light---is shining at you
Dark light, dark light
Is shining at you, dark light
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Death-Day Of Korner
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He went, with his noble heart unworn,
And pure, and high;
An eagle stooping from clouds of morn,
Only to die!
He went with the lyre, whose lofty tone
Beneath his hand
Had thrill'd to the name of his God alone,
And his Father-land.
And with all his glorious feelings yet
In their first glow,
Like a southern stream that no frost hath met
To chain its flow.
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
He hath left a voice in his trumpet-lays
To turn the flight,
And a guiding spirit for after days,
Like a watch-fire's light.
And a grief in his father's soul to rest,
Midst all high thought;
And a memory unto his mother's breast,
With healing fraught.
And a name and fame above the blight
Of earthly breath,
Beautiful beautiful and bright,
In life and death!
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
For him that went to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Invocation
I called on dreams and visions, to disclose
That which is veil'd from waking thought; conjured
Eternity, as men constrain a ghost
To appear and answer. ~ WORDSWORTH.
Answer me, burning stars of night!
Where is the spirit gone,
That past the reach of human sight,
As a swift breeze hath flown?–
And the stars answer'd me–'We roll
In light and power on high;
But, of the never-dying soul,
Ask that which cannot die.'
Oh! many-toned and chainless wind!
Thou art a wanderer free;
Tell me if thou its place canst find,
Far over mount and sea?–
And the wind murmur'd in reply,
'The blue deep I have cross'd,
And met its barks and billows high,
But not what thou hast lost.'
Ye clouds, that gorgeously repose
Around the setting sun,
Answer! have ye a home for those
Whose earthly race is run?
The bright clouds answer'd–'We depart,
We vanish from the sky;
Ask what is deathless in thy heart,
For that which cannot die.'
Speak then, thou voice of God within,
Thou of the deep, low tone!
Answer me, thro' life's restless din,
Where is the spirit flown?
And the voice answer'd–'Be thou still!
Enough to know is given;
Clouds, winds, and stars their part fulfil,
Thine is to trust in Heaven.'
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Two Spirits: An Allegory
FIRST SPIRIT
O thou, who plum'd with strong desire
Wouldst float above the earth, beware!
A Shadow tracks thy flight of fire--
Night is coming!
Bright are the regions of the air,
And among the winds and beams
It were delight to wander there--
Night is coming!SECOND SPIRIT
The deathless stars are bright above;
If I would cross the shade of night,
Within my heart is the lamp of love,
And that is day!
And the moon will smile with gentle light
On my golden plumes where'er they move;
The meteors will linger round my flight,
And make night day.FIRST SPIRIT
But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken
Hail, and lightning, and stormy rain;
See, the bounds of the air are shaken--
Night is coming!
The red swift clouds of the hurricane
Yon declining sun have overtaken,
The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain--
Night is coming!SECOND SPIRIT
I see the light, and I hear the sound;
I'll sail on the flood of the tempest dark,
With the calm within and the light around
Which makes night day:
And thou, when the gloom is deep and stark,
Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound,
My moon-like flight thou then mayst mark
On high, far away.----
Some say there is a precipice
Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin
O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice
Mid Alpine mountains;
And that the languid storm pursuing
That winged shape, for ever flies
Round those hoar branches, aye renewing
Its aëry fountains.
Some say when nights are dry and dear,
And the death-dews sleep on the morass,
Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller,
Which make night day:
And a silver shape like his early love doth pass
Upborne by her wild and glittering hair,
And when he awakes on the fragrant grass,
He finds night day.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Night
Earth! thou art lovely, when the sinking sun
Hath bathed the clouds in his departing flush,
And, with the moon-lit evening, hath begun
The voiceless, and yet spirit-calming hush,
That thrills around the heart, till tear-drops rush,
Unbidden and uncall'd for, to the eye;
When, save the music of the fountain's gush,
Or the far wailing of the night-bird's cry,
Unbroken silence hangs o'er earth, and wave, and sky.
But now the majesty of midnight storm
Is gathering, in its grandeur, o'er the sky;
The deep black clouds in mustering squadrons form,
And the low, fitful blast, that passes by,
Hath a strange fearful thrilling—like the sigh
Of a sick slumberer; even that hath died,
And in their quiet sleep the waters lie,
As though the winds ne'er curl'd them in its pride,
Or shook the still bent leaves that hang above the tide.
How steadily that ebon mass moves on!
Stretching across the sky in one dark line,
Like a huge wall of blackness; there do none
Of the thin silvery vapours hang supine,
Or those bright clouds that sometimes seem to twine
A coronal to grace the brow of night;
Stars in Orion's studded baldric shine,
In all their wonted brightness; and the light
Of an unclouded moon half dims the dazzled sight.
The tempest hurries onward—how the flash
Of the red lightning leaps from cloud to cloud!
The gathering thunder bursts in one wild crash,
And sinks a moment—then, returning loud,
Seems bounding o'er the sky, as if 't were proud
Of its own potency. We need not now,
A sharer in the thoughts that round us crowd;
The soul is its own world, and the deep glow
Of the rapt spirit seeks no fellowship below.
The wildness of the storm hath pass'd; the rain
Drips from the wet leaves only, and the sky,
With its deep azure beauty, gleams again
Through the rent clouds; the sunken wind swells by,
With a low sobbing; and the clouds, heap'd high,
With the rich moonbeams’ streaming flood of light
Pour'd full upon them, swell before the eye
Like distant snow-clad mountains. Night! O night!
Thou art most glorious! most beautifully bright!
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
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.
poem by Janet Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!