Sonnet XLII.
By Anna Seward
Lo! the YEAR's FINAL DAY! - Nature performs
Its obsequies with darkness, wind, and rain;
But Man is jocund. - Hark! th' exultant strain
From towers and steeples drowns the wintry storms!
No village spire but to the cots and farms,
Right merrily, its scant and tuneless peal
Rings round! - Ah! joy ungrateful! - mirth insane!
Wherefore the senseless triumph, ye, who feel
This annual portion of brief Life the while
Depart for ever? - Brought it no dear hours
Of health and night-rest? - none that saw the smile
On lips belov'd? - O! with as gentle powers
Will the next pass? - Ye pause! - yet careless hear
Strike these last Clocks, that knell th' EXPIRING YEAR!
Dec. 31st, 1782.