Анна Сьюард (Anna Seward)

Sonnet 42. Lo! the Year's final Day!—Nature performs

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!

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