LE Roi est mort!" is mutter'd round the bed;
"Long live the King!" we cry in louder chorus
We know that, when a year is lying dead,
A year is all before us.
To-night a dozen months of joy and care,
Of ancient fellowships and new dissensions.
Are left behind us; and the frosty air
Is thick with good intentions.
We scarcely heed the lessons of the sun—
His daily risings and his daily settings;