Only one
alteration
has been made in this poem, in line 41, where in
1842 "one' was altered to" twelve ".
1842 "one' was altered to" twelve ".
Tennyson
the silver tongue,
Cold February loved, is dry:
Plenty corrupts the melody
That made thee famous once, when young:
And in the sultry garden-squares, [3]
Now thy flute-notes are changed to coarse,
I hear thee not at all, [4] or hoarse
As when a hawker hawks his wares.
Take warning! he that will not sing
While yon sun prospers in the blue,
Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new,
Caught in the frozen palms of Spring.
[Footnote 1: 1842. Yet, though I spared thee kith and kin. And so till
1853, when it was altered to the present reading. ]
[Footnote 2: 1842 to 1851. Jennetin, altered in 1853 to present
reading. ]
[Footnote 3: 1842. I better brook the drawling stares. Altered, 1843. ]
[Footnote 4: 1842. Not hearing thee at all. Altered, 1843. ]
THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR
First printed in 1833.
Only one alteration has been made in this poem, in line 41, where in
1842 "one' was altered to" twelve ".
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year, you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend, and a true, true-love,
And the New-year will take 'em away.
Old year, you must not go;
So long as you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.
He froth'd his bumpers to the brim;
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.
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.
How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
Cold February loved, is dry:
Plenty corrupts the melody
That made thee famous once, when young:
And in the sultry garden-squares, [3]
Now thy flute-notes are changed to coarse,
I hear thee not at all, [4] or hoarse
As when a hawker hawks his wares.
Take warning! he that will not sing
While yon sun prospers in the blue,
Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new,
Caught in the frozen palms of Spring.
[Footnote 1: 1842. Yet, though I spared thee kith and kin. And so till
1853, when it was altered to the present reading. ]
[Footnote 2: 1842 to 1851. Jennetin, altered in 1853 to present
reading. ]
[Footnote 3: 1842. I better brook the drawling stares. Altered, 1843. ]
[Footnote 4: 1842. Not hearing thee at all. Altered, 1843. ]
THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR
First printed in 1833.
Only one alteration has been made in this poem, in line 41, where in
1842 "one' was altered to" twelve ".
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,
And the winter winds are wearily sighing:
Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow,
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.
Old year, you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,
Old year, you shall not die.
He lieth still: he doth not move:
He will not see the dawn of day.
He hath no other life above.
He gave me a friend, and a true, true-love,
And the New-year will take 'em away.
Old year, you must not go;
So long as you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,
Old year, you shall not go.
He froth'd his bumpers to the brim;
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.
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.
Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my friend,
And the New-year blithe and bold, my friend,
Comes up to take his own.
How hard he breathes! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
