III
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of The Death of the Old Year
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho' his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho' his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.
Old year, you shall not die.
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.