Alle bezoekers en mede-bloggers een aangename jaarwisseling en een gelukkig Nieuwjaar!xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Kerkuitgang bij avond door B. J. van Hove, 1846
The Death of the Old Year
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend and a true truelove
And the New-year will take em away.
Old year you must not go;
So long you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.
He frothd his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
Ive half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are oer.
To see him die across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But hell be dead before.
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.
How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low:
Tis nearly twelve oclock.
Shake hands, before you die.
Old year, well dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?
Speak out before you die.
His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone,
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:
Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door.
Theres a new foot on the floor, my friend,
And a new face at the door, my friend,
A new face at the door.
Alfred Tennyson (6 augustus 1809 6 oktober 1892)
Portret door Samuel Laurence, rond 1840
Zie voor de schrijvers van de 31e december ook mijn vorige blog van vandaag en eveneens mijn eerste blog van vandaag.
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