END OF THE YEAR 1912

You were here at his young beginning,

You are not here at his aged end;

Off he coaxed you from Life's mad spinning,

Lest you should see his form extend

Shivering, sighing,

Slowly dying,

And a tear on him expend.

So it comes that we stand lonely

In the star-lit avenue,

Dropping broken lipwords only,

For we hear no songs from you,

Such as flew here

For the new year

Once, while six bells swung thereto.