Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONG OF THE OLD YEAR, by ELIZA COOK


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SONG OF THE OLD YEAR, by             Poem Explanation         Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh! I have been running a gallant career
Last Line: And bury me under the green holly-tree.
Subject(s): Holidays; New Year


OH! I have been running a gallant career
On a courser that needeth nor bridle nor goad;
But he'll soon change his rider and leave the Old Year
Lying low in the dust on Eternity's road.
Wide has my track been, and rapid my haste,
But whoever takes heed of my journey will find,
That in marble-built city and camel-trod waste,
I have left a fair set of bold waymarks behind.
I have choked up the earth with the sturdy elm board,
I have chequered the air with the banners of strife,
Fresh are the tombstones I've scattered abroad,
Bright are the young eyes I've opened to life.
My race is nigh o'er on Time's iron-gray steed,
Yet he'll still gallop on as he gallops with me,
And you'll see that his name will be flying again
Ere you've buried me under the green holly-tree.

If ye tell of the sadness and evil I've wrought,
Yet remember the share of "good works" I have done;
Ye should balance the clouds and the canker I've brought,
With the grapes I have sent to be crushed in the sun.
If I've added gray threads to the woildly-wise heads,
I have deepened the chesnut of Infancy's curl;
If I've cherished the germ of the shipwrecking worm,
I have quickened the growth of the crown-studding pearl;
If I've lengthened the yew till it brushes the pall,
I have bid the sweet shoots of the orange bloom swell;
If I've thickened the moss on the ruin's dank wall,
I have strengthened the love-bower tendrils as well.
Then speak of me fairly, and give the Old Year
A light-hearted parting in kindness and glee,
Chant a roundelay over my laurel-decked bier,
And bury me under the green holly-tree.

Ye have murmured of late at my gloom laden hours,
And look on my pale wrinkled face with a frown;
But ye laughed when I spangled your pathway with flowers,
And flung the red clover and yellow corn down.
Ye shrink from my breathing, and say that I bite --
So I do -- but forget not how friendly we were
When I fann'd your warm cheek in the soft summer-night,
And just toyed with the rose in the merry girl's hair.
Fill the goblet and drink as my wailing tones sink.
Let the wassail-bowl dip and the revel shout rise --
But a word in your ear, from the passing Old Year,
'Tis the last time he'll teach ye -- "be merry and wise!"
Then sing, while I'm sighing my latest farewell,
The log-lighted ingle my death pyre shall be:
Dance, dance, while I'm dying, blend carol and bell,
And bury me under the green holly-tree.





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