As we all say goodbye to the old year to ring in the new year this poem tells the story as one man does the same.
The time has come the Orient light
Of New Year's dawn is here!
Aurora bursts the gates of night,
And lo! a new born year!
How softly comes his gentle tread,
As if 'twere Reason's child,
And knew the Older Year was dead
In Time's huge volume filed.
His bearing is the most discreet,
His breath is like the rose;
No snowy sandals on his feet,
No pendants from his nose.
The icicles he leaves behind,
Old Boreas disdains;
To rob the North he's disinclined;
To suit the West he aims.
He aims to suit our Western clime,
Where loveliest flowers bloom,
Where yellower than a golden mine
The orange is at home.
Last year he paid a visit here
And learned what we'd accept;
For other lands, with colder cheer
His frosty jewels kept.
With open hand he warmly greets
The dwellers near our bay;
He smiles on every one he meets,
Then hurries on his way.
For round the world his mission is,
To leave no spot untrod;
Not sorrow, weal or woe are his
All these he leaves with God.
Mrs. C.K. Smith
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