1881.
Year of all years, that hath been unto me More bitter than the depths of Acheron, I will not curse thee for the ill thou’st done, But bow as best I may to thy decree.
With what a buoyancy of hope and trust I gave thee generous welcome at thy birth, Swelling the chorus of the general mirth; And thou my greeting hast returned with—dust!
Two happy eyes that shone upon thy dawn, And beamed upon us from our chamber door Are quenched, and closed to open nevermore— The face, the form, the loving voice is gone.
Go, savage and inexorable year! Haste to the gloomy Hades of the Past! Not to thy memory are these moanings cast, Not for thy exit falls the hasty tear.