The Passing of 1916: A Poem

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THE TRUTH, BOYS, THE TRUTH 241

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The Passing of 1916 Goodbye, Old Year! We've traveled well together, These twelve months past; We've fought our way in clear and cloudy weather, But part we must a I last. Goodbye, Old Year! Grieved thou art and weary; Fain would I withhold thee; — Thy frame is weak the world unkind and dreary; Goodbye! My hand. Alas, thou canst not see! Goodbye, Old Year! Silent and sallow and still; Cold and moist thy head; Warped with sorrow; blotted with blood until — —until Thou lieth prostrate —dead. Goodbye, Old Year! I weep as the moon's soft light Steals gently o'er thy tomb; Time cursed thy life from morning-dawn to night, Cursed thee from the womb. Goodbye, Old Year ! Old Year, goodbye forever Ill-fated; yes, but kind To those who used thee well and did not sever God from Life, and Light from Mind. Raymond, Canada Frank C. Steele.