Page:More songs by the fighting men, soldier poets, second series, 1917.djvu/70

 MALCOLM HEMPHREY

The New Year

HE white moon like a queenly ship

Sails down the blue and tropic night,

And all the clouds in homage slip

Into her light.

A quiet veil lies on the earth,

Whose silver glory makes me sad—

Beyond, ah me! War's crashing mirth

Rings wild and mad.

Begone, old year, pass from thy own,

And make thou way for newer life;

Nor grace nor pity will atone

For all thy strife.

I watch thy last few embers die,

And thy bleak ashes—blown around

By strong winds that go whirling by—

Sink to the ground.

66