Poems (Dorr)/Blest
BLEST
Dec. 1865
Sinking to thine eternal rest,O dying Year! I call thee blest;Blest as no coming year may beThis side of vast Eternity!
Thy cheek is pale, thy brow is worn;Thine arms are weary, that have borneThe heaviest burdens ever laidOn any, since the world was made.
But thou didst know her whom to-dayMy fond heart mourns, and must alway;She loved thee, claimed thee, called thee dear,Hailing with joy the glad New Year!
Thou didst behold her, fair and good,The perfect flower of womanhood;Simple and pure in thought and deed,Yet strong in every hour of need.
Ah! other years shall come and go,Bidding the sweet June roses blow;But never on their yearning eyesShall her fair presence once arise!
The Spring shall miss her, and the long,Bright Summer days hear not her song; And hoary Winter, draped in snow,Finding her not, shall haste to go!
Therefore, Old Year, I call thee blest,Thus sinking to eternal rest;Blest as no other Year may beThis side of vast Eternity!