Contrasted Greetings
NEW YEAR'S. 1880
(A lonely life speaks)
I want no New Year, for I face
Each coming day with dread:
The dear old lost years have my heart;
Oh, give me back my dead!
I see them in the sunny time
Of summers long ago,
Ere on my brow the wrinkles came,
Or on my head the snow.
I shouted " Happy New Year " once,
The merriest of the gay,
And strained my eager eyes to see
Along life's forward way.
For song and flowers and love led on
A path that seemed forever,
And joy and triumph promised then
To crown my least endeavor.
But as I went on, one by one
Flowers withered, songs grew still;
Loved ones sank down and slept, and none
Their places came to fill.
No new years then for me! I'd give
For one dear year that's past
All that the future promises,
On to the very last.
(Another speaks)
A Happy New Year? Yes, 'tis still
A happy time to me,
Though morning's light is far behind,
And evening's star I see.
I sit here in my easy chair
And dream the old days over,
My childhood where the robins sang
Above the fields of clover.
'Twas long ago; and on my brow
My hair is getting thin,
Am I the happy girl that once
A lover came to win?
Did children come, and round my feet
Prattle and coo and play?
I see their winsome faces yet
As if 'twere yesterday.
He went; and they, — some slept, and some
Have built nests of their own.
They loved me; and 'tis not their fault
If Grandma's here alone.
The past was full of good: no power
Can take that past away:
I keep its dear ones in my heart;
They smile on me to-day.
(Time speaks)
A power not myself compels
My tireless, age-long flight:
I brush the morning with my wings;
I plunge into the night.
Forever and forevermore,
I hasten on my way;
And unto me a thousand years
Are but as yesterday.
I am the maker of all things,
I their destroyer too;
And ever from the crumbled old
I build me something new.
I watch the buds burst forth in spring,
I see the brown leaves fall;
And, 'neath the shelter of my wings,
I love and keep them all.
I sorrow for the griefs of men,
Their care and toil and tears;
And, if I could, would fain hold back
The onrush of the years.
But nothing precious shall be lost,
I cast no good away,
I only hide it for a while,
To be revealed some day.
( The voice of Faith )
I am the whisper in men's hearts
Of better things to be,
The eye that through the winter's storm
The bloom of June can see.
I read the record of the past;
I study long gone years,
And see how all the old of good
Was watered with salt tears.
I see how always from decay
Some grander good has sprung,
How over fields of sore defeat
Have shouts of triumph rung.
In every clod, I see a power
That struggles toward the light;
And over every prostrate Wrong
Springs up the giant Right.
From all the past, I gather strength
To face the coming day.
I see not, yet I know the good
Shall triumph and make way.
" A Happy New Year! then, " cries Faith.
The good time comes apace.
Though tarrying long, the perfect day
Shall dawn for all the race.
(A lonely life speaks)
I want no New Year, for I face
Each coming day with dread:
The dear old lost years have my heart;
Oh, give me back my dead!
I see them in the sunny time
Of summers long ago,
Ere on my brow the wrinkles came,
Or on my head the snow.
I shouted " Happy New Year " once,
The merriest of the gay,
And strained my eager eyes to see
Along life's forward way.
For song and flowers and love led on
A path that seemed forever,
And joy and triumph promised then
To crown my least endeavor.
But as I went on, one by one
Flowers withered, songs grew still;
Loved ones sank down and slept, and none
Their places came to fill.
No new years then for me! I'd give
For one dear year that's past
All that the future promises,
On to the very last.
(Another speaks)
A Happy New Year? Yes, 'tis still
A happy time to me,
Though morning's light is far behind,
And evening's star I see.
I sit here in my easy chair
And dream the old days over,
My childhood where the robins sang
Above the fields of clover.
'Twas long ago; and on my brow
My hair is getting thin,
Am I the happy girl that once
A lover came to win?
Did children come, and round my feet
Prattle and coo and play?
I see their winsome faces yet
As if 'twere yesterday.
He went; and they, — some slept, and some
Have built nests of their own.
They loved me; and 'tis not their fault
If Grandma's here alone.
The past was full of good: no power
Can take that past away:
I keep its dear ones in my heart;
They smile on me to-day.
(Time speaks)
A power not myself compels
My tireless, age-long flight:
I brush the morning with my wings;
I plunge into the night.
Forever and forevermore,
I hasten on my way;
And unto me a thousand years
Are but as yesterday.
I am the maker of all things,
I their destroyer too;
And ever from the crumbled old
I build me something new.
I watch the buds burst forth in spring,
I see the brown leaves fall;
And, 'neath the shelter of my wings,
I love and keep them all.
I sorrow for the griefs of men,
Their care and toil and tears;
And, if I could, would fain hold back
The onrush of the years.
But nothing precious shall be lost,
I cast no good away,
I only hide it for a while,
To be revealed some day.
( The voice of Faith )
I am the whisper in men's hearts
Of better things to be,
The eye that through the winter's storm
The bloom of June can see.
I read the record of the past;
I study long gone years,
And see how all the old of good
Was watered with salt tears.
I see how always from decay
Some grander good has sprung,
How over fields of sore defeat
Have shouts of triumph rung.
In every clod, I see a power
That struggles toward the light;
And over every prostrate Wrong
Springs up the giant Right.
From all the past, I gather strength
To face the coming day.
I see not, yet I know the good
Shall triumph and make way.
" A Happy New Year! then, " cries Faith.
The good time comes apace.
Though tarrying long, the perfect day
Shall dawn for all the race.
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