For the New-York Weekly Museum..
ON THE NEW-YEAR.
LO! from the east, sol's radiant beams appear,
And smile propitious, on this new-born year;
Each slated season, which revolves around
Demands anew, our gratitude to sound;
And witnesses kind Heav'n's benignant plan;
Whose boundless mercies, rest on fallen man
What tho' gay nature ceases now to bloom,
And dreary winter yields no sweet perfume;
What tho' the gardens have their beauty lost,
And fields, and meadows, are all chill'd by frost;
Altho' the trees stand naked, unadorn'd,
Stript of their verdure, destitute, forlorn;
Yet still for me, each season has its charms,
And winter's piercing cold has no alarms.
Peaceful within I sit around the fire,
And read those pages which I most admire;
There wrapt in thought! the contemplative mind
Soars back to earth -- scorns to be confin'd;
Marks well the progress of each varying year,
Pleas'd with those happier prospects which appear.
LO! from the east the sun appears