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Show THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR Full knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing: Toll ye the church bell sad and low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year, you must not die; You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year, you shall not die. He lieth still; he doth not move; He will not see the dawn of day. He hath no other life above. He gave me a friend, and a true true love. And the New Year will take 'em away. Old year, you must not go. So long as you have been with us, Such joy as you have seen with us, Old year, you shall not go. How hard he breathes; Over the the snow I heard just now the crowing cock. The shadows flicker to and fro; The cricket chirps; the light burns low; 'Tis nearly twelve 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. His face is growing sharp and tnin Alack! our friend is gone. Close up his eyes; tie up his chin; Step from the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone, And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And a new face at the door, my friend, A new face at the door. Alfred Lord Tennyson |