... Mort

We aew that the Year was-dying fhen tiie midnight cbimes began; 'iOw on his death-bed lying, Lile a worn-out, aged man. The King, who ruled for a twelvemonth, Wíth a proud and royal sway, Must give iip bis crown and scepter Wlien the New Year criep, " Make way !" His earthly Journey wan flnlfehed, And bo we watcbed bim go; OKI Timo carne in witb his hour-glase, And finlehcd him with a blow. He was old and wretched and broken ; We hurricd him i ff at last, And a g'ad good-by was ppoken; We puBhcd him into the paat. So long as the Year was witb us, ] To use him well we tried ; We gave him a Christmas dinner The week before he died. But hiB guilty consci nee was weighted With many a dreadful crime ; We looked at hiB corpBe, and hated To tbink bow he ppent his time. No chance for shrift we allowed him, But burietl him in his Bin ; With the soft white snow we shroud him, And carefully wrap hün in. We dng him a grave with laughter, And smiled as we laid him there ; We Bhoveled the earth in after, And packod it down with care. And back to the earth he never Cu mal:e hia way again ; He bas finisht d his work f ore ver Axaong the sons of men ; He'li never unlock that port il So long as the ageB roll : Thero waB nothing about him iainaortal ; The gray-beard had no soul. And the porrow that he bronght with him, The care, the Bhame, the ain, We 'II try to bury them with bim - His grave Bhall lock them in. No mourners are bending o'er him ; No hand a watch-fire keeps : With these who have gone before him The uncrowned monarch sleeps.