1 January 2008 | Vol. 7, No. 4

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.