The threshold of the Past. To God it speeds
Its way, but bears a burden, for I see
Its form bend drooping with the weary weight
Of evil deeds, and feelings harsh and cold.
Farewell, Old Year! With light heart full of joy
I greeted thee, before thou mad’st thy sad
And bitter revelations to my soul.
Temptations, grievous trials thou didst bring,
And sorrow’s blinding, overwhelming tide.
And yet I leave thee with a grateful heart,