Classic Poem

The season now requires a Man should send
Some worthy present to his worthier Friend.
And I (though poor in purse) do wear a heart,
That is ambitious to perform a part
In celebration of this new born day,
And having nothing to present, I'll pray
This year may be to me, as well as you,
So much more blest then t'other, as more new.
And in it so much happiness abound,
To turn us all to good, yet not turn round.
And may the Sun, that now begins t'appear
I'th' Horizon to usher in the year,
Melt all those fatuous Vapors, whose false light
Purblinds the World, and leads them from the right;
And may our Sol like that rise once again,
Mounted triumphant in a prosperous raign.
May all those Phaetons that spite o'th' crown,
Would guide his chariot, tumble head-long down:
 So shall the Land with happiness be crown'd,
 When men turn right, and only years turn round.