New Year’s Eve.
The rows of long dark houses,
Without look cold and damp,
By the struggling of the moonbeam,
By the flicker of the lamp.
Without look cold and damp,
By the struggling of the moonbeam,
By the flicker of the lamp.
The clouds ride fast as horses
The wind is from the north;
But no one cares for Gretchen,
And no one looketh forth.
The wind is from the north;
But no one cares for Gretchen,
And no one looketh forth.
Within those dark damp houses
Are merry faces bright,
And happy hearts are watching out
The old year’s latest night.
Are merry faces bright,
And happy hearts are watching out
The old year’s latest night.
The board is spread with plenty,
Where the smiling kindred meet,
But the frost is on the pavement,
And the beggars in the street.
Where the smiling kindred meet,
But the frost is on the pavement,
And the beggars in the street.
With the little box of matches,
She could not sell all day,
And the thin, thin tattered mantle,
The wind blows every way.
She could not sell all day,
And the thin, thin tattered mantle,
The wind blows every way.
147
