Shutting men's cries of suffering out
That startle the white-tressed Silences
Musing beside the fount of light
In the eternal space, to press
Their roses, each a nebula bright,
More closely to their lips serene,
While ye wear this unconscious mien!"
"Even so,"
The revelers said, "We'll have naught of woe;
Why should we mourn who have our fill?
Enough if the poor and hungry cry.
We from our plenty cast at will
Some crumbs to make their wet eyelids dry;
But to the rich the world is fair,
Why should we grovel in tears and prayer?"
In her innocent bliss
A fair bride said, with sweet earnestness,
"For the dear Year am I truly sad,
Since in its happy and hopeful days
Every brief hour my heart was glad,
And blessings were strewn in all my ways:
Will it be so forevermore?
Will the New Years bring of love new store?"
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