The Old Year
The Old Year's gone away to nothingness and night: We cannot find him all the day nor hear him in the night: He left no footstep, mark or place in either shade or sun: The last year he'd a neighbour's face, in this he's known by none. All nothing everywhere: Mists we on mornings see have more of substance when they're here and more of form than he. He was a friend by every fire, in every cot and hall-a guest to every heart's desire, and now he's nought at all. Old papers thrown away, old garments cast aside, the talk of yesterday, are things identified; But time once torn away no voices can recall: The eve of New Year day left the Old Year lost to all.
By John Clare (1793-1864)
What can be said in New Year rhymes, that not been said a thousand times? The new years come, the old years go, we know we dream, we dream we know. We rise up laughing with the light, we lie down weeping with the night. We hug the world until it stings, we curse it then and sigh for wings. We live, we love, we woo, we wed, we wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead. We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear, and that's the burden of the year.
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)