Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf/168

 He was full of joke and jest, But all his merry quips are o'er. To see him die, across the waste His son and heir doth ride posthaste, But he'll be dead before. ⁠Every one for his own. ⁠The night is starry and cold, my friend, ⁠And the Newyear blithe and bold, my friend, ⁠Comes up to take his own.

How hard he breathes! over the snow I heard just now the crowing cock. The shadows flicker to and fro: The cricket chirps: the light burns low: 'Tis nearly one o'clock. ⁠Shake hands, before you die. ⁠Old year, we'll dearly rue for you. ⁠What is it we can do for you— ⁠Speak out before you die.