Poems (David)/The Dying Year

by Edith Mary David

THE DYING YEAR.

"WEEP not for me," said the dying year,
 Mourn not for the weary past;
Woe is not o'er, nor is sorrow dead,—
 Joy cometh with the morn at last.
Though dark without, sore dark within,
 Sad, dim, alas! and grey:
Yet time must come, and time must go,
 Until the last great Judgment Day!"

Why should we grieve for years now fled,
 And bright days that shall come no more?
For the flowers, and youthful hope, long dead,
 The gay halcyon dreams of yore?
Though dark without, sore dark within,
 Sad, dim, alas! and grey:
Yet time must come, and time must go,
 Until the last great Judgment Day!

Why should we mourn for by-gone hours,
 Too bright and fair to last?
O'er our shatter'd hopes, youth's gayest dream
 Long buried in the hoary past?—
Dark without, and sore dark within
 Sad, dim, alas! and grey:
Yet time must come, and time must go
 Until the last great Judgment day!