The Years

From the Omaha Daily Bee, December 30, 1912. By W. D. Nesbit.
 

 Sunrise, and noon, and sunset,
     And day slips into day;
 Twilight, and dark, and daylight—
     A year has rolled away.
 Budding, and bloom, and fading,
     Green tree, and leafless bough;
 Seeding, and growth, and harvest—
     So dies an old year now.
 
 Singing, and sighs, and silence,
     The frownings and the smiles,
 Toiling, and stress, and resting,
     And grave or gayer whiles;
 Days that have brought their honors,
     And days that left their scars—
 Over it all the marvel
     Of each night with its stars.
 
 Dreamings, and hopes, and plannings,
     Tasks that begin and end;
 Hours that have brought the silence
     Alike to foe and friend.
 Words that were sad or merry,
     Draughts that were bittersweet;
 Greetings, and hail, and parting—
     The old and new year meet.
 
 Sunrise, and noon, and sunset,
     Day will slip into day;
 Twilight, and dark, and daylight,
     The year will roll away;
 Sunshine, and song, and gladness,
     Fair dreams that come in sleep,
 Birdsong, and nodding blossoms—
     These we are fain to keep.
 
 Darkness, and light, and shadows,
     Sorrow and golden cheer,
 Blend into God’s completeness,
     Into the finished year,
 Into a memory-fabric
     Woven of shade and shine—
 These are the years unfolding
     In lives like yours and mine.