The Old Year Displaced

The Old Year plays a mournful dirge

On his organ dusty, dim.

He awaits the full, hateful hour

When the New Year will march in.

A blast flinches the candle flames

The Old Year’s strength grows feeble.

Dark tear glistens on hoary cheek

Against the coming evil.

Hark!

And see the New Year coming;

Mark her blithesome pipers.

A wreath of blossoms crowns her brow

A gladdened tune she’s humming.

She treads a path of melting snow,

Winter shivers in her wake.

Up to the church where soon she’ll reign.

Icicles snap, fall, and break.

The New Year dances up the aisle

Young and light and bright is she.

The Old Year turns from organ keys

Fearing, to face the beauty.

Hark!

Seeing her young girlish face

The Old Year does recall,

That mirror of springtime whispers

Echoing his former grace.

Casting out all anxious keening,

New Year clasps the Old Year’s hands.

They dance through caliginous dusk

Laughing at the night’s demands.

This in past and this in future

Always then shall be the way.

Darkness falls and dead men lecture

Never marring break of day.

Hark!

Mourn not for Old Year’s leaving,

Lest springtime pass you by.

Stroking the bark of withered trees

Leaves April’s blossoms grieving.

As he passes into the night

The Old Year turns ‘round once more.

The New Year’s pipers warble sweet

Up and up the glad notes soar.

The Old Year passes silently;

Light from windows fades away,

Leaving the steady candlelight

To brighten each song, each day.