Youth and maid,
Of their conscious blushes half afraid,
Shunning each other's tell-tale eyes,
Yet cherishing hopes too fond to own,
Sped the Old Year with secret sighs,
And smiled that his time was overflown;
Should they not hear each other say
"Dear Love!" ere the New Year passed away?
"Oh, haste on!
The Year or the pleasure is dead that is gone,"
Boasted the man of pomp and power:
"That which we hold is alone the good,
Give me new pleasures for every hour,
And grieve over past joys ye who would:
Joys that are fled are poor, I wis,
Give me forever the newest bliss."
"Wish me joy,"
Girl Beauty cried, with glances coy:
In the New Year a woman I.
I'll then have jewels in my hair,
And such rare webs as princes buy
Be none too choice for me to wear:
I'll queen it as a beauty should
And not be won before I'm wooed."
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