Original Poetry.

Marlborough Express, Volume IV, Issue 152, 9 January 1869, Page 6

Original Poetry.

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. A WORD IN SEASON. Like smallest raindrop ranged with ocean vast, That in that ocean falls and disappears. So seems the year that’s gone with all time past; So lost in an eternity of years. But as the eye that watched that raindrop fall, Engulphed in the great deep still holds the spot, So memory will this speck of time recall, Nor words nor deeds will ever be forgot. For good, for ill, for joy, or woe, the seeds Are sown, which oftimes yet in future hours Will prove to some pure life, destroying weeds ; Or happ’ly sweetest odour yielding flowers. Yet during this brief space we’ve change beheld; Unwelcome change for some, since desolate Some hearts are now, and homes around where smiled The youthful hopes of early sixty-eight. Yes, here disease in loathsome form did wait, And cast o’er all a temporary gloom ; For young and old, when stricken, t’was their fate To be too oft swift hurried to the tomb. And history will hold forth this year, and tell—- “ Then shook the earth with devastation wide,” While many here, when heait and bosom swell, Will note it thus, 4 4 That year my children died. ” Revolting deeds by cruel treach’rous knaves Have pained our ears, in that unsettled North, The hateful miscreants are not fit for slaves, One charge of lead is all that they are worth. Yes, as a country, we’ve been backward borne, Since sixty-eight awoke the slumbering strife ; Homes, hearts, and feelings have alike been torn, E’en suckling babes stayed not theruthless knife. Awake, ye ministers of people’s trust, Yesteersmenof this tossed and shiv’ringbarque, Leave not your energies and powers to rust, • But stamp upon these cannibals your mark. Awake, ye native hearts of Britain’s sons, Whom fortune leads to fight in freedom’s cause, For ’tis for freedom you now point your guns, Foulinurder stop, andgain the world’s applause.

Adieu-old year, to me you’ve been a bore. Excuse my freedom, I’m so very blunt; Just take your load of notes out this back door, While I can hail the New Year by the front. ' I turn and look my new friend in the face, And point to him a seat; he answers “ No,” With somewhat sad, yet still with youthful grace, “ We’ll talk of different matters as we go.” I try to scan his youthful brow and eye, But o’er my peering sense a mist he flings ; "The view is dim, however hard we try - i To learn whate’er of ills or joys he brings. Then since ’tis vain, we’ll jog along beside ; He may look brighter yet and bring good cheer, While hoping ’twill to us not be denied To live and call him yet a Good Old Year. Blenheim, Jan. 1, 1869. *