A WELCOME.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 1, 7 January 1893, Page 22

A WELCOME.

Give me your hand. Oh, brother ! see where rises The bright New Year, clad in her pearl-white vest Her golden hair, that veils the sweet surprises ’ Held to her heart, streams o’er the sunset west Hiding the year that all too slow is dying, ’ Prying the tears that we therein have shed ; Her laughing voice doth sound above the sighing That comes from those who’d mourn the year just dead.

Why should we mourn ’ True, some have gone before us ■ Of them we know naught, save they’ve gone away ’ Their voices failing from the merry chorus That once was wont to greet the rising day ! Their hands no longer with our hand-clasp meeting Their feet no longer pausing at our door, Still they are gone ; so why should we be ‘ greeting’’ We live, we love, and hail New Year onee more

True, in the year that now dies sad and lonely, Our hearts were wrung, and disappointments lore Was ours most fully ; things we deemed most holy Showed their real selves, their great and secret sore. Were we not foolish thus to vex ani whimper ’ Life has for us exactly what we take. If for a smile she gives a vacuous simper, Are hearts so brittle that at this they’d break ’

The bells are tolling ; dead he lies ! Arisen Our sweet young Queen bolds out her pretty hands Let Hope once more unlock our self-made prison Let us arise and face Life’s robber bands ! ’ Smile with the tear, pain, pleasure mixed together Come with the fair year that was born to night 1’ There’s nothing new ; only can we say whether Our sky shall be o'ercast or clearly bright ’