His smile was like the glitter Of the sun in tropic lands, And his talk a sweeter twitter Than the swallow understands; Hear him sing--and tell a story-- Snap a joke--ignite a pun,-- 'Twas a capture--rapture--glory, An explosion--all in one! Though he hadn't any money-- That condiment which tends To make a fellow "honey" For the palate of his friends;-- Sweet simples he compounded-- Sovereign antidotes for sin Or taint,--a faith unbounded That his friends were genuine. He wasn't honored, maybe-- For his songs of praise were slim,-- Yet I never knew a baby That wouldn't crow for him; I never knew a mother But urged a kindly claim Upon him as a brother, At the mention of his name. The sick have ceased their sighing, And have even found the grace Of a smile when they were dying As they looked upon his face; And I've seen his eyes of laughter Melt in tears that only ran As though, swift-dancing after, Came the Funny Little Man. He laughed away the sorrow And he laughed away the gloom We are all so prone to borrow From the darkness of the tomb; And he laughed across the ocean Of a happy life, and passed, With a laugh of glad emotion, Into Paradise at last. And I think the Angels knew him, And had gathered to await His coming, and run to him Through the widely opened Gate, With their faces gleaming sunny For his laughter-loving sake, And thinking, "What a funny Little Angel he will make!" SONG OF THE NEW YEAR I heard the bells at midnight Ring in the dawning year; And above the clanging chorus Of the song, I seemed to hear A choir of mystic voices Flinging echoes, ringing clear, From a band of angels winging Through the haunted atmosphere: "Ring out the shame and sorrow, And the misery and sin, That the dawning of the morrow May in peace be ushered in." And I thought of all the trials The departed years had cost, And the blooming hopes and pleasures That are withered now and lost; And with joy I drank the music Stealing o'er the feeling there As the spirit song came pealing On the silence everywhere: "Ring out the shame and sorrow, And the misery and sin, That the dawning of the morrow May in peace be ushered in." And I listened as a lover To an utterance that flows In syllables like dewdrops From the red lips of a rose, Till the anthem, fainter growing, Climbing higher, chiming on Up the rounds of happy rhyming, Slowly vanished in the dawn: "Ring out the shame and sorrow, And the misery and sin, That the dawning of the morrow May in peace be ushered in."