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LINESWRITTEN ON NEW YEAR'S DAY—1815.
Another year is gone, for ever gone!
How many of my comforts too are fled!
A twelvemonth back how fair arose this morn,
How bright the joys that glitter'd round my head!
How many of my comforts too are fled!
A twelvemonth back how fair arose this morn,
How bright the joys that glitter'd round my head!
No cloud of sorrow then o'ercast the day,
I thought not of the ills that were in store,
And had I known how thorny was my way,
I must have sunk with grief, long, long before,
I thought not of the ills that were in store,
And had I known how thorny was my way,
I must have sunk with grief, long, long before,
