Poems (Carmichael)/Sixty-Four and Sixty-Five

by Sarah Elizabeth Carmichael

SIXTY-FOUR AND SIXTY-FIVE.

"Good bye, old friend!" and the bright young year
 Sprang through his palace door,
And grasped the cold, unsteady hand
 Of the dying sixty-four:
Mournfully glittered the young king's tear,
 On the old king's locks of snow—
"You are passing fast from the world, old year,
 Yet bless me ere you go.

Your eye is dim, and your hand is cold,
 Yet in the 'Auld lang syne'
Your breast had a measure of life's red gold
 As wide and deep as mine;
And you know, old king, I only ask
 Of the world a place to stand—
Room for my head, room for my heart,
 Room for the sweep of my hand.

"Yet I kneel with reverence at your feet,
 For I feel that a life well clone
Towers far, in majesty complete,
 O'er the brightest of lives begun:
I kneel at your feet, old year, I kneel,
 Bent by my strength of pride;
I am proud, most proud, of the power to feel
 Honor for talents tried;

"Honor for lives that have proved their strength
 Honor for aims attained—
Many can boast of an arrow's length,
 Few of a target gained:
You are passing fast from the world, old year,
 Your pulse is ebbing low;
Yet look on the young life kneeling here,
 And bless me ere you go."

The old year smiled yet mournfully,
 For his lips we.re growing cold;
He said:"I bless thee—thou shalt be
 Revered when thou art old—
And this I deem the proudest thing
 Existence can bestow;
The pearls that crown earth's greatest king
 Are honored locks of snow.

"I do bless thee, young year—thy glance
 Shines to my failing sight
Like flashing steel of a fearless lance,
 Uplifted for the right;
Thy hand is warm, and firm, and strong,
 And the bright head bowing here
Will never bend before the wrong—
 I do bless thee, young year!"