Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE OLD YEAR, by GEORGE MURRAY (1830-1910)


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE OLD YEAR, by                    
First Line: Good night, old year, good night!
Last Line: And wait god's will with patience till the end.
Subject(s): Farewell; Future; Holidays; New Year; Past; Parting


Good night, Old Year, good night!
The calm pale moon is watching in the sky,
The stars look down unutterably bright,
Each like a seraph's eye;
They mourn thee not; they will not veil their fire,
For they have seen six thousand years expire!

Good night, Old Year, good night!
I feel like one who weeps beside a bed,
Knowing full surely that the morrow's light
Will find his comrade dead!
His comrade dead! Oh, solemn words of fate,
E'en at their sound the heart sinks desolate!

Good night, Old Year, good night!
The moaning winds thy requiem murmur low,
And like a corpse arrayed in garments white,
Thou liest draped in snow;
And thy young heir, when scarce thy breath hath flown,
Will gallop up to seize upon his own.

Good night, Old Year, good night!
We knew that thou must die; the hectic flush
That tinged thy cheek in Autumn like a blight,
Told of Death's coming hush,
And musing mournfully, from day to day
We watched the languid progress of decay.

Good night, Old Year, good night!
We bless thee for the blessings that thy hand
Hath scattered freely, as the sun doth light,
O'er each too thankless land;
If sometimes we have murmured at our lot—
Old Year, we pray thee, oh! record it not!

Good night, Old Year, good night!
Think how we strove the tempter to repel,
Think of our aspirations for the right,
And if alas! we fell,
Recall those words the Holy One did speak,
The Soul is willing but the Flesh is weak!

Good night, Old Year, good night!
I trow that no man liveth on the Earth,
Who as thy spirit calmly takes its flight,
Would vent discordant mirth;
For 'tis a solemn thing, while tolls the knell,
To bid the year eternally "Farewell!"

Good night, Old Year, good night!
To some thou wast Ambassador of woe,
For with thee stalked the Phantom Death, to smite
Their loved ones like a foe;
Let such not curse thee, they should kiss the rod,
For thou wast but the messenger of God.

Good night, Old Year, good night!
Mourners whose grief is bitter to endure
Should hail with joy thy Heavenward tending flight;
For if their Faith be sure,
Each moment wafts them nearer to that shore
Where death and tears and parting are no more.

Good night, Old Year, good night!
Thy Son, the New Year, waiteth at the door
And in his hand rich gifts he graspeth tight,
Three hundred and three-score;
Let us all greet him blithely as a friend,
And wait God's will with patience till the end.





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