2 JANUARY 1892, Page 25

" THE OLD AND THE NEW."

THE wind is wailing through leafless trees, And sweeps bare boughs with his fingers cold, Till they yield with sighs, sad melodies, Mourning the year whose days are told.

Sobs—sighs, So Time flies, Ache to the heart, and tears to the eyes.

The old year yields up its dying breath, And the wailing wind sobs a last good-bye, And the hush of peace which follows death Reigns for a space in earth and sky.

Rest—peace, Troubles cease, Ended at last with the old life's lease.

But now the stillness is stirred again, By a tremulous breath as in gladness drawn, And as new life springs from the old life's pain, From the old year's death is a new year born. New birth !

Joy and mirth !

Fresh hopes waken for all on earth I