The Toast

A poem by Virna Sheard

A toast to thee, 0 dear old year,
While the last moments fly,
A toast to thy sweet memory -
We'll lift the glasses high,
And bid to thee a fond farewell
As thou art passing by!

A toast to those who reaped success
In this good year of grace;
A toast to every one of them -
Come! Give the victors place!
Come, wish them well with right good will -
The winners in the race!

And one toast more! To those who failed
Wherever they may be; -
With faces white they fought the fight,
But missed the victory;
So here's to them - the ones who strove -
On land and on the sea!

Fair dreams to thee, 0 grey old year,
Thy working time is done,
And gone for thee the silver moon,
And golden noon-day sun;
Yet sad old year - and glad old year -
We'll know no better one.

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