From: cujo@petitmorte.net   
      
   nancygene.andjayme@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (NancyGene) wrote in   
   news:Rv-dneZld_MPfsb0nZ2dnZfqn_GdnZ2d@giganews.com:   
      
   >> NancyGene wrote:   
   >>   
   >>> NancyGene wrote:   
   >>>   
   >>>> NancyGene wrote:   
   >>>> 2. PART THE SECOND.*   
   >>>> I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.   
   >>>> by Barry Cornwall   
   >>>>   
   >>>> Hark!   
   >>>> The Old Year is gone!   
   >>>> And the young New Year is coming!   
   >>>> Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,   
   >>>> My soul on her forward journey flies;   
   >>>> Over the regions of rain and snow;   
   >>>> And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:   
   >>>> And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;   
   >>>> And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;   
   >>>> And the wild bee humming:"   
   >>>> And all because the New Year is coming!   
   >>>> The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,   
   >>>> But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:   
   >>>> The son of the stormy Autumn, he   
   >>>> Totters about on a palsied knee,   
   >>>> With a frozen heart and a feeble head:   
   >>>> Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!   
   >>>> The fresh New Year is almost here;   
   >>>> Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!   
   >>>> Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,   
   >>>> Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!   
   >>>> 2   
   >>>> What is the Past,"to you, or me,   
   >>>> But a thing that was, and was to be?   
   >>>> And now it is gone to a world unknown;   
   >>>> Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!   
   >>>> Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,   
   >>>> It crieth “The good Old Year is flown,”"   
   >>>> The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,   
   >>>> Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!   
   >>>> Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,   
   >>>> Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?   
   >>>> Hath he not fed thee, day by day,   
   >>>> With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?   
   >>>> Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,   
   >>>> The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?   
   >>>> Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget   
   >>>> All the amount of the mighty debt?   
   >>>> Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time   
   >>>> I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"   
   >>>> Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,   
   >>>> As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"   
   >>>> Dim as the echoes that lately fell   
   >>>> From the deep Night's funereal bell,   
   >>>> Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,   
   >>>> Like the close of a mournful tale!   
   >>>> . . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!   
   >>>> The Year is gone! the Year is come!   
   >>>> The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,   
   >>>> That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!   
   >>>> Let us model our spirit to chance and change,   
   >>>> Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range   
   >>>> Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;   
   >>>> But never forget the time that's flown!   
   >>>>   
   >>>> *from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"   
   >>>> By Barry Cornwall   
   >>>> (1787-)   
   >>>>   
   >>>> Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)   
   >>>   
   >>>   
   >>>   
   >>> Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.   
   >>   
   >>   
   >> Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong, or   
   >> when his poems are posted without his permission.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > George Dunce stole Barry Cornwall/Bryan Waller Procter's poem.  Will   
   > Donkey spelled Barry/Bryan's last name wrong.  Is there any end to   
   > their incompetence?   
      
   Does infinity end, Grasshopper?   
      
   --   
   "Post-editing someone's statement before replying to it is a sure sign   
   that you have already lost the argument." - Little Willie Douchebag gets   
   another asskicking from Pendragon   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)