New Year, 1868.

Cradled in ice, and swathed in snows,
    And shining like a Christmas rose,
Wreathed round with white chrysanthemums;
    Heaven in his innocent, brave blue eyes,
    Straight from the primal paradise,
Behold the infant New Year comes!

His looks a serious sweetness wear,
    As if upon that unseen way,
Those baby hands that lightly bear
    Garlands, and festive tokens gay,
    For but a glance,--a touch sufficed,--
Had met and touched the infant Christ!

And lingering on the wing, had heard,
    Sweeter than song of any bird,
Of cherub or of seraphim,
    The notes of that divinest hymn,--
    Glory to God in highest strain,
And peace on earth, good will to men.

Oh, diamond days, so royally set
    In winter's stern and rugged breast,
Like jewels in an amulet,--
    Your light has cheered, and soothed, and blest,
    The want and toil, the sighs and tears,
And sorrows-of a thousand years!

The bells ring in the merry morn,
    The poor forget their poverty,
The saddest face grows bright with glee,
    And smiles for joy that he is born;
    The fair round world shines out with cheer,
To welcome in the glad New Year.

Oh ye, whose homes are warm and bright,
    With plenty smiling at the board,
Remember those whose roofs to-night,
    Nor warmth, nor light, nor food afford,
    Still make those wants, and woes your care,
And let the poor your bounty share.

For yet our hills and lakes along
    Echoes the herald angels' song,--
Peace and good will!--oh look abroad,--
    In every nation, tribe, and clan,
    Behold the brotherhood of man,--
Behold the Fatherhood of God!

Peace to our mountains and our hills,--
    Peace to our rivers and our rills;--
Our young Dominion takes her place
    Among the nations west and east,--
    God send her length of happy days,
And years of plenty and of peace!

Kate Seymour Maclean

Kate Seymour Maclean, born on January 6, 1829, was a Canadian poet who carved out a significant place for herself in the literary scene of her time. Her poetry often reflected the deep appreciation she had for nature, and she was renowned for her elegant and evocative style. Maclean's work was well-regarded by her contemporaries, and she maintained correspondence with others in the literary community, including famous poets like Bliss Carman and Charles G.D. Roberts. She passed away on March 23, 1914, but her contributions to Canadian literature have left a lasting legacy.

Kate Seymour Maclean

May.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

What The Owl Said To Me.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

Miserere

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

The Burning Of Chicago.

Kate Seymour Maclean, Simple Poetry

English

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The Legend Of The New Year.

I dreamed, and lo, I saw in my dream a beautiful gateway,
    Arched at the top, and crowned with turrets lance-windowed and olden,
    And sculptured in arabesque, all knotted and woven and spangled;
    A wonderful legend ran, in letters purple and golden
    Written in leaves and blossoms, inextricably intertangled,
A legend I could not resolve, crowning the gate so stately.

Like statues carven and niched in the front of some old cathedral,
    Four angels stood each in his turret, immovable warders,
    The first with reverend locks snow-white, and a silver volume
    Of beard that twinkled with frost, and hung to the icicled borders
    That fringed his girdle beneath: ancient his look was, and solemn,
Like a wrinkled and bearded saint blessing some worshipping bedral.

Kate Seymour Maclean

Christmas

The birth day of the Christ child dawneth slow
    Out of the opal east in rosy flame,
    As if a luminous picture in its frame--
        A great cathedral window, toward the sun
Lifted a form divine, which still below
    Stretched hands of benediction;--while the air
    Swayed the bright aureole of the flowing hair
Which lit our upturned faces;--even so
        Look on us from the heavens, divinest One
And let us hear through the slow moving years.
Long centuries of wrongs, and crimes, and tears,--
    The echo of the angel's song again,
    Peace and good will, good will and peace to men,
A little space make silence,--that our ears,
        Filled with the din of toil and moil and pain
May catch the jubilant rapture of the skies,--
The glories of the choi...

Kate Seymour Maclean

The News-Boy's Dream Of The New Year

Under the bare brown rafters,
    In his garret bed he lay,
And dreamed of the bright hereafters.
    And the merry morns of May.

The snow-flakes slowly sifted
    In through each cranny and seam,
But only the sunshine drifted
    Into the news-boy's dream.

For he dreamed of the brave to-morrows,
    His eager eyes should scan,
When battling with wants and sorrows,
    He felt himself a Man.

He felt his heart grow bolder
    For the struggle and the strife,
When shoulder joined to shoulder,
    In the battle-field of life.

And instead of the bare brown rafters,
    And the snowflakes sifting in,
He saw in the glad hereafters,
    The home his hands should win.

The flowers that grew in its shadow,
    And t...

Kate Seymour Maclean

Christmas Hymn.

Break over the waiting hill-tops,
    White dawn of the Christmas morn!
For the angels have sung through the midnight,
    That the wonderful Babe is born.

And still in the slumbering valleys,
    The night's black tents are up,
And the young moon stands on the mountains,
    Clear and fair as a silver cup.

Under the cottage rafters,
    Silent and soft and deep,
On the swart low brow of the toiler,
    Settles the dew of sleep.

And some that watch and waken,
    Are dreaming of eyes whose ray
Was long ago quenched and hidden
    Under the shroud away.

Oh, sing thy jubilant anthem
    Over the frozen mould,
And tell that wonderful story
    Again, that never grows old!

For under the year's broad shadow,
  ...

Kate Seymour Maclean

New Year

Each year cometh with all his days,
Some are shadowed and some are bright;
He beckons us on until he stays
Kneeling with us 'neath Christmas night.

Kneeling under the stars that gem
The holy sky, o'er the humble place,
When the world's sweet Child of Bethlehem
Rested on Mary, full of grace.

Not only the Bethlehem in the East,
But altar Bethlehem everywhere,
When the ~Gloria~ of the first great feast
Rings forth its gladness on the air.

Each year seemeth loath to go,
And leave the joys of Christmas day;
In lands of sun and in lands of snow,
The year still longs awhile to stay.

A little while, 'tis hard to part
From this Christ blessed here below,
Old year! and in thy aged heart
I hear thee sing so sweet and low.

Abram Joseph Ryan

New Year's Day.

Hail! joyous morn. Hail! happy day,
That ushers in another year,
Fraught with what sorrow, none can say,
Nor with what pain, to mortals here.

Another year has roll'd away,
With all its sorrows, joys and fears,
But still the light of hope's glad ray,
Yet beams within our heart, and cheers.

One year, one span of time has pass'd,
So swift to some, to others slow;
But it has gone, and we should cast
Along with it, remorse and woe.

Of things we've done, or only thought,
'Tis useless now the bitter tear,
Of actions unavailing wrought,
Let them repose upon their bier.

We should, indeed, e'en yet atone
For what our reason says we can,
But never let remorse's groan
Degrade us from our state as man.

Let us discharge the ...

Thomas Frederick Young