< Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf
Full kneedeep lies the winter snow,
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
154
POEMS.
THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR.
i.
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the churchbell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year, you must not die.
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is licensed under Creative Commons - Attribution - Sharealike. Additional terms may apply for the media files.