A NEW YEAR ANTHOLOGY

Press, 29 December 1979, Page 10

A NEW YEAR ANTHOLOGY

selected and arranged by WHIM WHAM Does it Much matter what the Date is? I'm bored — already — with the Eighties. A Decade’s done, the Windbags puff Dust in my Eyes. I’ve had Enough. With better Poets on my Shelf, Why should I do this Job myself? * * * The Book of Fate is writ, ’Tis well we understand not it, We snould grow Mad with little Learning there Upon the Brink of every 11l we did foresee, Undecently and foolishlie We should stand shivering, and but slowly venture The Fatal Flood to enter. Since willing, or unwilling, we must do it, They feel least cold and pain who plunge at once into it — Abraham Cowley (1618-1667). "To the New Year’ * * * Tonight a scrambling decade ends, And strangers, enemies and friends Stand once more puzzled underneath The signpost on the barren heath . . . Endeavouring to decipher what Is written on it but cannot. Nor guess in what direction lies The overhanging precipice . . . —W. H. Auden 71907-1973). ’New Year Letter V * • have finished another year,’ said God — Thomas Hardy 71840-1928). 'New Year's Eve' * * * This day, Time winds th'exhausted chain. To run the twelvemonth’s length again: See the old. bald-pated fellow, With ardent eyes, complexion sallow, Adjust the unimpair’d machine To wheel the equal, dull routine . . Let us th’important NOW employ. And live as those who never die. ■ —Robert Burns (1759-1796),‘New dear's Day' »? * * We cannot ride on fortune’s wheel And always be up on the top. We must go round, the pinch to feel. When all our primary products drop We all must make the very best Of everything we have for sale, To strangers we would put the test, For England’s mart we must prevail. —Francis Cloke, ‘Better Times Ahead’ I from 'Songs of New Zealand and Various Verses'. Auckland 1931) I fire my Rockets Into the Air. The Sticks fall down I know not Where. The Punk Rock thumps, The Lights burn late, Out there in the Dark The Eighties wait —Anon. (1979-1980)