The Old Year
By John Clare
The Old Year’s gone away
To nothingness and night:
We cannot find him all the day
Nor hear him in the night:
He left no footstep, mark or place
In either shade or sun:
The last year he’d a neighbour’s face,
In this he’s known by none.
All nothing everywhere:
Mists we on mornings see
Have more of substance when they’re here
And more of form than he.
He was a friend by every fire,
In every cot and hall–
A guest to every heart’s desire,
And now he’s nought at all.
Old papers thrown away,
Old garments cast aside,
The talk of yesterday,
Are things identified;
But time once torn away
No voices can recall:
The eve of New Year’s Day
Left the Old Year lost to all.
The year of our Lord two-thousand fourteen is almost over. I will not say that it has been an exceedingly good year, nor an exceedingly had year. It’s just been another year. I will reflect more on 2014 in my post tomorrow, but for now, let’s hope for a prosperous and healthy 2015 to friends, family, and my readers.
Joe
The Closet Professor 
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