When rooms gleam warm with the fire's glow,
And the sleet raps sharp on the window-pane;
When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,
And Christmas revels begin again:—
It's—Home, O my Heart, and love, at last!
And her happy breast to your own held fast;
A song to sing and a tale to tell,
A good-night kiss, and all is well.
It's—Home, O my Heart, and love!
The New Year.
Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us see
What Destiny
Hath made thee heir to at nativity!
Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,
Whom some name Right;
And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.
Despair, with Hope's brave form; and Hate, who goes
In Friendship's clothes;
And Happiness, the mask of many woes.
Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,
Love bends the knee;
And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.
Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;
And Cares and Pains,
That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.
Corruption, known as Honesty; and Fame
That's but a name;
And Innocence, the outward guise of Shame.