And life looks sadder than it seemed of yore, And Winter’s fleecy robe with ermined fold
Doth bear a blemish unperceived before, And falling storms, grateful to boyhood’s ears, Bring up stern poverty’s distracting fears,
Yet welcome thou! Welcome to Childhood! with thy toys and books—
Thine out-door games, the coasting and the slide,. With graceful skating o’er thy frozen Brooks —
Childhood’s own joys to tott’ring Age denied. Welcome to Childhood, tho’ thy months must bring The April skies that shadow life’s young spring With smiles and tears. Welcome to Age ! e’en though thy steps shall lead Them nearer to their Father’s home of rest! Thine autumn shall perchance give them the seed Of holy purposes, a long life blest; And when their sun is set behind life’s hill, Its rays reflected shall be with us still
To give us light! Welcome, New Year! tho’ Freedom, God’s best gift, Unto three million souls has been denied, It may be thine the darksome veil to lift! Through thee be heard who long in bonds hare cried! The South confess at Slavery’s funeral pyre “The laborer is worthy of his hire,” Whate’er his skin. Welcome, New Year! tho’ foul intemp’rance reign,
And men for gold their brethren daily kill, Set thou upon their brows the mark of Cain!
And by their hideousness warn men from ill! May one-eyed Law no longer pass them by, But pour their liquors where their victims lie
In public sight! Welcome, New Year! may politicians seek
To elect the principles more than the man ! Learn how men act rather than how they speak,
Nor seek the party good to public ban! Nor men to office-seeking whole lives give — The office will come to them where they live,
If worth the search! Welcome, New Year! may party sects no more
Of anise, mint and cummin, pay their tithes, And weightier matters of the law give o’er — Wash judgment, mercy, faith, from out their lives! Cleansing so faithfully the outward part,
Leaving iniquity within the heart!
“Oh fools and blind!” Welcome, New Year! thy hand is placed in ours,
Where’er thou leadest, with thee we must go! Be it a thorny road, or path of flowers, Still with thy seasons may our spirits grow! That we in Spring new hopes and freshness find, And our life’s Autumn have its sheaves to bind, God grant to all!
Lydia L.A. Very (1823-1901).
Katie Barclay is a historian in Irish Studies at Queen’s University, Belfast. She wishes everyone a merry 2011!
