| VOL. VII. | JANUARY, 1900. | NO. 1 |
| Then came old January, wrapped well In many weeds to keep the cold away; Yet did he quake and quiver like to quell, And blow his nayles to warm them if he may; For they were numb'd with holding all the day An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood, And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray; Upon a huge great earth-pot steane he stood, From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romane flood. — Spenser. |
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveler stopp'd, the courier's feet Delay'd, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fire-place, inclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm — Emerson. |
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Said the year that was old: "I am cold, I am cold, And my breath hurries fast On the wild winter blast Of this thankless December; Ah, who will remember As I, shivering, go, The warmth and the glow That arose like a flame When I came, when I came? For I brought in my hands, From Utopian lands, Golden gifts, and the schemes That were fairer than dreams. Ah, never a king Of a twelvemonth, will bring Such a splendor of treasure Without stint or measure, As I brought on that day, Triumphant and gay. But, alas, and alas, Who will think as I pass, I was once gay and bold?" Said the year that was old. |
Said the year that was young — And his light laughter rung — "Come, bid me good cheer, For I bring with me here Such gifts as the earth Never saw till my birth; All the largess of life, Right royally rife With the plans and the schemes Of the world's highest dreams. Then — hope's chalice filled up To the brim of the cup, Let us drink to the past, The poor pitiful past," Sang the year that was young, While his light laughter rung. — Nora Perry. |