The Old Year's Grief.

When the young year walked the woodlands or climbed the mountain side He wooed a gentle maiden and won her for his bride. She brought him golden sunshine & wheresoe'er he trod She reared a starry blossom to decorate the sod. From vale to vale they wandered; from hill to hill they went, Still leaving in their footsteps a harvest of content. But woe is me! when Autumn had climbed the green hill-side, Mid wailing of the woodlands the Year's sweet consort died. No more the soft winds dallied where bracken crowned the hill, To waft the brown bee's murmur across some golden rill.

The throstle's song was silent. The year's sad step was slow, And whereso'er he wandered, he wandered through the snow. His constant song of sorrow was borne by northern gales Across the leafless forests & through the misty vales. He rambled by the river where often he had seen The mirrored face of beauty—his dear departed queen. But round the frozen sedges deep snow had drifted wide And ice, with Death's indifference, had bound the pleasant tide. In vain, in vain. The glory that once his vision knew Had left, in his dominion, no trace of where it flew. His days grow short & shorter. 'Twill soon be time to go And the white year's badge of sorrow is the pure and frosty snow.