THE NEW YEAR.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 6, Issue 239, 5 January 1917, Page 4

THE NEW YEAR.

The Old Tear is sped: Ye who have watched him lying Outwearied, slowly dying, Enow he is dead. The weeping hours forlorn That watched about his bed, His shadowy hearse have born Into the night—and gone. For he is dead. Stay! Do not lift The shroud that hides his face; For the moments fly apace, And we have no time to sift The Fast, and look back upon The things that are dead and gone: Life is so swift. Give no sad thought To the Fast, and its shadow-train ; To the golden moments wasted ; Sweet pleasures—ere you tasted Grown bitter—turned to pain. How the things that you loved and sought Have vanished—for Life is short— So short! And regrets are vain. The New Year is born. She has risen from her dreams, And stands in the light that streams From the threshold of her dawn. She has risen, and chased away The Past, like the pale stars' flight Before the flooding light Of the coming Day. Hast thou been weak before 'i Rise and be strong! Hast thou wrought ill of yore 'i Strive with the wrong! Dids't thou despair ? Arise! Who can forsee the prize This Year may hold ? Deep in Earth's heart there lies Hidden the gold. Rise ! for the morn is here : All the night's shapes of fear Shall flee away. Sigh not upon the night, Whose forms are put to flight, Long for the dawning lightLive for the Day. -W.