The New Year.
When the gloomy shades of midnight
Have enveloped all the earth,
I sit watching at the window
For the coming New Year’s birth,
And I seem to see in fancy,
Through the shadows of the night,
Hosts of angel forms advancing,
O so fair and wondrous bright.
Well I know those radiant beings
Are not of an earthly clime—
In their midst a grim old figure,
Gaunt and gray, old Father Time;
In his arms he bears a burden—
’Tis an infant, young and fair,
Rounded limbs and baby dimples,
Laughing eyes and shining hair.
Onward comes the bright procession,
Singing songs of happy cheer,
And I know the smiling infant
Is the blithe and bright New Year.
Now they pause before my window
And the New Year laughs with glee,
Holding both hands clasped tightly
O’er the gifts I may not see.
