The Toast

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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.

© Virna Sheard