Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE OLD YEAR, by BELLE RICHARDSON HARRISON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE OLD YEAR, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: In a corner of a cornfield
Last Line: For pulseless and still is the stricken old year.
Subject(s): Time


IN a corner of a cornfield
Where the sarsaparilla grew,
Crouched a gaunt and senile figure,
While the north wind nipping blew.
I stopped, and thus accosted him:
"Old man, what is your name?"
"Ungrateful mortals call me, sir,
I say it to their shame—
'The Shank of the Year,'
While they laughingly jeer;
'The Shank of the Year,'
While they chaffingly sneer."
And he wiped from his faded eyes a tear.

"When I was born the brazen bells
Pealed forth a joyous chime,
A royal welcome greeted me
From Earth's remotest clime.
I showered the gifts on all mankind,
A bounteous harvest smiled,
The voice of loved ones blessed their homes,
And weary hours beguiled.
Now hear them jeer
At 'the Shank of the Year,'
And chaffingly sneer
At 'the wrinkled old year.'"
And he brushed from his sunken cheeks a tear.

"I am dying here, deserted,
On a mound of withered leaves,
The callous world recks not my fate,
No pitying spirit grieves.
Once my brow was wreathed with roses,
Once I held a sceptred sway,
But the end is fast approaching,
And ungrateful mortals say:
'Tis the Shank of the Year,'
And they laughingly jeer;
'A dotard, we fear,
Is the palsied old year.'"
He tottered and fell as the words smote his ear.

"Men have slighted sacred duties,
Solemn vows remain unpaid,
When I uttered words of warning
They would answer, undismayed:
'On the morrow we will hearken;
Wait a season,' Pleasure calls,
We will heed the voice of Wisdom
When the blissful Present palls.
You are dismal and drear,
Your look is severe,
Your vision is blear,
You're 'the Shank of the Year—'"
And a sob shook the frame of the heart-broken seer.

"Lo! a stripling comes to greet them,
One they never saw or knew,
Outstretched arms receive him gladly
While they pledge allegiance true.
All forgot the tried and faithful,
He who served them to the end,
On a frozen mound of stubble
Prone he lies—without a friend;
'The Prince draweth near,
The joyous New Year,
Why should we revere
The Shank of the Year?'"
He shivered and shook on his frozen bier.

"Ha, ha, they deridingly laugh,
These mortals—behold them look back;
Pursuing, and gaining each step,
Father Time follows fast on my track."
With a powerful sweep of his scythe
Every obstacle falls as he goes,
And the "Shank of the Year" lieth dead—
Unwept by the mortals, his foes.
"The Shank of the Year"
No longer need fear
That mortals will jeer,
Or deridingly sneer,
For pulseless and still is the stricken Old Year.





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