New Year's Eve

For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year.

It is the last New-year that I shall ever see,

Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more of me.

The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind;

And the New-year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see

The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree.

Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May;

And we danced about the may-pole and in the hazel copse,

Till Charles's Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops.

I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again:

I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high:

I long to see a flower so before the day I die.

And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea,

And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave,

But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave.

In the early early morning the summer sun 'ill shine,

Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill,

When you are warm-asleep, mother, and all the world is still.

You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night;

When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool

On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool.

And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid.

I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass,

With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass.

You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow;

Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild,

You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child.

Though you'll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face;

Though I cannot speak a word, I shall harken what you say,

And be often, often with you when you think I'm far away.

And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door;

Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green:

She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been.

Let her take 'em: they are hers: I shall never garden more:

But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set

About the parlour-window and the box of mignonette.

All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn;

But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year,

So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear.