Heads of snow and eyes aglow
With fires that youth might blush to know;
And brows whose youthful fairness shamed
The desperate thoughts that strove within,
While each his cause exultant named
As purest that the world had seen—
All names they had to tickle honest ears—
Reform, and Rights, and sweet Philanthropy's cares.
"Well-a-day! well-a-day!"
The Old Year strove to put away
Sight and sound of the reckless earth.
But soft! from out a cottage door
Stole strains of neither grief nor mirth,
And on his dying ear did pour—
"Give us, O God," the singers said,
As good a year as this one dead!"
Pealing loud from sod to cloud
Earth's bells rang out in a chorus proud;
Great waves of music shook the air
From organs pulsing with the sound;
Hushed was the voice of sob and prayer
As Time touched the eternal bound;
To the dead monarch earth was dimmed,
And the golden portals brighter gleamed.
98
