A SONG

0 heart of mine--if I were but a swallow--
A thing so fearless, swift of flight, and free--
On wings unwearied I would find and follow
Some path that led to thee!

Were I a rose out in the garden growing
My sweetness I would give the vagrant breeze
For he, perchance, might meet thee all unknowing--
Yet bring thee memories.




THE TOAST

A toast to thee, 0 dear old year,
While the last moments fly,
A toast to thy sweet memory--
We'll lift the glasses high,
And bid to thee a fond farewell
As thou art passing by!

A toast to those who reaped success
In this good year of grace;
A toast to every one of them--
Come! Give the victors place!
Come, wish them well with right good will--
The winners in the race!