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THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR
VULL knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
Old year, you must not die;
Old year, you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
1 He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend, and a true true love, And the New Year will take them away.
year, you must not go;
Old year, you shall not go.
He frothed his bumpers to the brim; A jollier year we shall not see.
But though his eyes are waxing dim,
And though his foes speak ill of him, He was a friend to me.
He was so full of joke and jest, But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post haste,
Every one for his own.
Comes up to take his own.
How hard he breathes! over the snow I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low:
Speak out before you die.
His face is growing sharp and thin. Alack! our friend is gone,
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
And waiteth at the door.