The Old Year
It passed like the breath of the night-wind away,It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day;It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled,Another increase to the age of the world.
It passed with its shadows, its smiles and its tears,It passed as a stream to the ocean of years;Years that were coming—were here—and are o’er,The ages departed to visit no more.
It passed, but the bark on its billowy trackLeaves an impression on waters aback:The glow of the gloaming remains on the sky,Unwilling to leave us—unwilling to die.
It fled; but away and away in its wakeThere lingers a something that time cannot break.The past and the future are joined by a chain,And memories live that must ever remain.