BY IVA MAY TERRY.
In a little while this year must die,
And another year will dawn;
But in looking back we breathe a sigh
For the one now almost gone.
Just a year ago we remember well
How we listened with delight
To the joyful pealing of the bell
When the old year took its flight.
It is thus the years pass swiftly by
And each marks the end of time,
Till we reach our Heavenly home on high,
There to live a life sublime.
So we give a thought to the passing year,
For we feel a little blue;
But may every heart be filled with cheer
With the coming of the new.
Green Island, N.Y.
Troy Times. December 31, 1921: 14 col 2.