Classic Poem

The New Year landed on Albion's shore,
And stood where her cliffs rise, shelf o'er shelf;
He greeted the isle with his sunniest smile,
And thus he kept communing with himself:
Oh, what shall I give for a New Year's gift
To these hardy islanders, brave and free,—
My goodwill to prove—to merit their love—
And make them with gladness remember me?

‘I view with sorrow their vacant works;
I miss the clack of their empty mills;
I see their poor at the workhouse door,
And I bless the pity that succours and fills!
And my heart bleeds when I turn to gaze
On the long black shadow that shrouds the Throne,
Since the Nation's pride in his manhood died,
And left the Monarch to mourn alone!

‘What can I give that will scatter the gloom,
And make the glowings of gladness start?
That will waken a gleam in eyes that stream,
And chase the woe from the mourner's heart?
I have it! I have it! I'll bring, I'll bring,
A son and heir to the island's crown!
And I know, oh, I know, every heart will glow
With a dear delight which no grief can drown!’

And the Nation takes her new-born Hope,
And cradles it in her warm caress—
While her welcomes rise to the echoing skies
In a pæan of thrilful tenderness!
O babe of the brilliant destinies!
Though thy path through life may all-glorious prove—
Though the glitter and shine of all wealth will be thine—
Thy greatest wealth is the Nation's love!