Lady! could I seal thy future, All of bliss and love ’twould be; And when time with us is ended, Spend eternity with thee.
But when time with me is over, When my fleeting years have passed, Oh! I trust once more to greet her, And this parting be the last; So, till then I wait expectant— I, the Master’s time doth “bide”— But to me the hour is precious, That my little Florence died.
O! City of God, though as captives we go, Jerusalem’s weal we’ll never forego, O! soon may the exiles of Israel return, To sing Zion’s songs in their own holy land.
Ah! the year is slowly dying, And the wind in tree-top sighing, Chant his requiem. Thick and fast the leaves are falling, High in air wild birds are calling, Nature’s solemn hymn.
In the deep, dark forest lingers, Imprints of his icy lingers, Chill, and dark, and cold. And the little streamlets flowing, Wintry sun so softly glowing, Through the maple’s gold.
So, Old Year, gird on your armor, Let not age, nor fear, nor favor, Hurry you along. List! the farewell echoes pealing, List! the midnight hour is stealing, Hark! thy dying song.
Say, Old Year, ere yet your death knell Rings from out yon distant church bell, Say, what have you done? Tell of hearts you’ve sadly broken, Tell of love dead and unspoken, Ere your course is run.
Tell the mother who doth languish, O’er her graves in silent anguish, She will see again, Blooming bright “beyond the river” Living on for aye and ever, Every bright-eyed gem.
Ah! full many a spirit weary, You have wooed from paths so dreary, Wafted them above. Now they say Old Year , we bless thee, Raise thy head, we would caress thee For this home of love.
On thy brow lies many a furrow, And thy eyes tell many a sorrow Hath its shadow cast. But thy task is almost ended, Soon the path which thou hast wended, Will be called the Past .
Then, old dying year we hold thee, To our hearts we fondly fold thee, Ere the midnight bell. Soon thy race will now be ended, With Eternity be blended, So, Old Year, farewell.
Oh! waves in the sunlight gleaming, Oh! billows with ceaseless roar, Bring back to this aching heart of mine, The laddie you bore long ago. Far out on on your restless bosom, Far away from his boy-hood’s home, I charge you waves of the deep, blue sea To bid my wanderer come.
Oh! stars in the heavens twinkling Like lamps hung up in the sky, Oh! moon look down through the darkness, His trysting-place you may descry. Then tell him a fond heart is aching, In love for the dear one she bore, Oh! surely to thee he will hearken, And haste to his own cottage door.
The winds of the autumn are sighing, The leaves from the trees falling fast, The roses that erstwhile were blooming, Say mournfully—Summer is past. The daisies have long ago slumbered, Their blossoms I search for in vain; But surely for thee I will look, love, Ere spring time brings them again.
When the Frost-King’s robe is glistening O’er hill, and valley, and glen, When the bright sleigh-bells are jingling, I know he’ll come to me then. So sunlight, or starlight, or moonlight, Wherever my truant you see, Just tell him you left me a-waiting Far over the deep blue sea.