"Well-a-day! Well-a-day!" The Old Year strove to put away Sight and sound of the reckless earth; But soft! from out a cottage door, Sweet strains of neither grief nor mirth, Upon his dying ear did pour; "Give us, O God," the singers said, "As good a year as this one dead!" Pealing loud from sod to cloud, Earth's bell's rang out in a chorus proud; Great waves of music shook the air From organs pulsing with the sound; Hushed was the voice of sob and prayer, As time touched the eternal bound: To the dead monarch earth was dimmed, But the golden portals brighter beamed. Sad no more, The Old Year reached the golden door, Just as the hours with crystal clang Aside the shining portals bent And murmuring 'mong the spheres there rang The chorus of earth's acknowledgment: One had passed out at the golden door, And one had gone in forevermore! THE END.