Reading New Year Poems at the Thammasat University Library

The staff of the Thammasat University Library wish the TU community a happy and healthy new year.

One way to prepare for the celebrations or understand them better afterwards is to read some poems on the theme.

Here are some examples of poems that are out of copyright, as posted online by authors, many of whom are represented in the TU Library collection:

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The Passing of the Year

by Robert W. Service

 

My glass is filled, my pipe is lit,

     My den is all a cosy glow;

And snug before the fire I sit,

     And wait to feel the old year go.

I dedicate to solemn thought

     Amid my too-unthinking days,

This sober moment, sadly fraught

     With much of blame, with little praise.

 

Old Year! upon the Stage of Time

     You stand to bow your last adieu;

A moment, and the prompter’s chime

     Will ring the curtain down on you.

Your mien is sad, your step is slow;

     You falter as a Sage in pain;

Yet turn, Old Year, before you go,

     And face your audience again.

 

That sphinx-like face, remote, austere,

     Let us all read, whate’er the cost:

O Maiden! why that bitter tear?

     Is it for dear one you have lost?

Is it for fond illusion gone?

     For trusted lover proved untrue?

O sweet girl-face, so sad, so wan

     What hath the Old Year meant to you?

 

And you, O neighbour on my right

     So sleek, so prosperously clad!

What see you in that aged wight

     That makes your smile so gay and glad?

What opportunity unmissed?

     What golden gain, what pride of place?

What splendid hope? O Optimist!

     What read you in that withered face?

 

And You, deep shrinking in the gloom,

     What find you in that filmy gaze?

What menace of a tragic doom?

     What dark, condemning yesterdays?

What urge to crime, what evil done?

     What cold, confronting shape of fear?

O haggard, haunted, hidden One

     What see you in the dying year?

 

And so from face to face I flit,

     The countless eyes that stare and stare;

Some are with approbation lit,

     And some are shadowed with despair.

Some show a smile and some a frown;

     Some joy and hope, some pain and woe:

Enough! Oh, ring the curtain down!

     Old weary year! it’s time to go.

 

My pipe is out, my glass is dry;

     My fire is almost ashes too;

But once again, before you go,

     And I prepare to meet the New:

Old Year! a parting word that’s true,

     For we’ve been comrades, you and I—

I thank God for each day of you;

     There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!

 

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The Old Year

by John Clare

 

The Old Year’s gone away

     To nothingness and night:

We cannot find him all the day

     Nor hear him in the night:

He left no footstep, mark or place

     In either shade or sun:

The last year he’d a neighbour’s face,

     In this he’s known by none.

 

All nothing everywhere:

     Mists we on mornings see

Have more of substance when they’re here

     And more of form than he.

He was a friend by every fire,

     In every cot and hall—

A guest to every heart’s desire,

     And now he’s nought at all.

 

Old papers thrown away,

     Old garments cast aside,

The talk of yesterday,

     Are things identified;

But time once torn away

     No voices can recall:

The eve of New Year’s Day

     Left the Old Year lost to all.

 

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Song for the New Year

by Eliza Cook

 

Old Time has turned another page

      Of eternity and truth;

He reads with a warning voice to age,

      And whispers a lesson to youth.

A year has fled o’er heart and head

      Since last the yule log burnt;

And we have a task to closely ask,

      What the bosom and brain have learnt?

Oh! let us hope that our sands have run

      With wisdom’s precious grains;

Oh! may we find that our hands have done

      Some work of glorious pains.

Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new year,

      While the holly gleams above us;

With a pardon for the foes who hate,

      And a prayer for those who love us.

 

We may have seen some loved ones pass

      To the land of hallow’d rest;

We may miss the glow of an honest brow

      And the warmth of a friendly breast:

But if we nursed them while on earth,

      With hearts all true and kind,

Will their spirits blame the sinless mirth

      Of those true hearts left behind?

No, no! it were not well or wise

      To mourn with endless pain;

There’s a better world beyond the skies,

      Where the good shall meet again.

Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new year,

      While the holly gleams above us;

With a pardon for the foes who hate,

      And a prayer for those who love us.

 

Have our days rolled on serenely free

      From sorrow’s dim alloy?

Do we still possess the gifts that bless

      And fill our souls with joy?

Are the creatures dear still clinging near?

      Do we hear loved voices come?

Do we gaze on eyes whose glances shed

      A halo round our home?

Oh, if we do, let thanks be pour’d

      To Him who hath spared and given,

And forget not o’er the festive board

      The mercies held from heaven.

Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new year,

      While the holly gleams above us;

With a pardon for the foes who hate,

      And a prayer for those who love us.

 

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The Year

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

 

What can be said in New Year rhymes,

That’s not been said a thousand times?

 

The new years come, the old years go,

We know we dream, we dream we know.

 

We rise up laughing with the light,

We lie down weeping with the night.

 

We hug the world until it stings,

We curse it then and sigh for wings.

 

We live, we love, we woo, we wed,

We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.

 

We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,

And that’s the burden of the year.

 

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The New Year

by Carrie Williams Clifford

 

The New Year comes—fling wide, fling wide the door

Of Opportunity! the spirit free

To scale the utmost heights of hopes to be,

To rest on peaks ne’er reached by man before!

The boundless infinite let us explore,

To search out undiscovered mystery,

Undreamed of in our poor philosophy!

The bounty of the gods upon us pour!

Nay, in the New Year we shall be as gods:

No longer apish puppets or dull clods

Of clay; but poised, empowered to command,

Upon the Etna of New Worlds we’ll stand—

This scant earth-raiment to the winds will cast—

Full richly robed as supermen at last!

 

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(All images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)