New Year’s Eve.
She clingeth to the railing,
She shivers in the gloom,—
There are parents sitting snugly
By firelight in the room:
She shivers in the gloom,—
There are parents sitting snugly
By firelight in the room:
And groups of busy children,
Withdrawing just the tips
Of rosy fingers pressed in vain
Against their burning lips;
Withdrawing just the tips
Of rosy fingers pressed in vain
Against their burning lips;
With grave and earnest faces,
Are whispering each other,
Of presents for the new year, made
For father or for mother.
Are whispering each other,
Of presents for the new year, made
For father or for mother.
But no one talks to Gretchen,
And no one hears her speak,
No breath of little whisperers
Comes warmly to her cheek:
And no one hears her speak,
No breath of little whisperers
Comes warmly to her cheek:
No little arms are round her,
Ah me! that there should be
With so much happiness on earth,
So much of misery.
Ah me! that there should be
With so much happiness on earth,
So much of misery.
