New Year'S Eve

And some of us are climbing on the peak,

And some of us are camping on the plain;

By pine and palm you'll find us, with never claim to bind us,

By track and trail you'll meet us once again.

We are fated serfs to freedom--sky and sea;

We have failed where slummy cities overflow;

But the stranger ways of earth know our pride and know our worth,

And we go into the dark as fighters go.

Yes, we go into the night as brave men go,

Though our faces they be often streaked with woe;

Yet we're hard as cats to kill,

And our hearts are reckless still,

And we've danced with death a dozen times or so.

And you'll find us in Alaska after gold,

And you'll find us herding cattle in the South.

We like strong drink and fun; and when the race is run,

We often die with curses in our mouth.

We are wild as colts unbroke, but never mean;

Of our sins we've shoulders broad to bear the blame;

But we'll never stay in town, and we'll never settle down,

And we'll never have an object or an aim.

No, there's that in us that time can never tame;

And life will always seem a careless game;

And they'd better far forget--

Those who say they love us yet--

Forget, blot out with bitterness our name.

NEW YEAR'S EVE

It's cruel cold on the water-front, silent and dark and drear;

Only the black tide weltering, only the hissing snow;

And I, alone, like a storm-tossed wreck, on this night of the glad

New Year,

Shuffling along in the icy wind, ghastly and gaunt and slow.

They're playing a tune in McGuffy's saloon, and it's cheery and

bright in there

(God! but I'm weak--since the bitter dawn, and never a bite of food);

I'll just go over and slip inside--I mustn't give way to despair--

Perhaps I can bum a little booze if the boys are feeling good.

They'll jeer at me, and they'll sneer at me, and they'll call me a

whiskey soak;

("Have a drink? Well, thankee kindly, sir, I don't mind if I do.")

A drivelling, dirty gin-joint fiend, the butt of the bar-room joke;

Sunk and sodden and hopeless--"Another? Well, here's to you!"

McGuffy is showing a bunch of the boys how Bob Fitzsimmons hit;

The barman is talking of Tammany Hall, and why the ward boss got

fired;

I'll just sneak into a corner, and they'll let me alone a bit;

The room is reeling round and round ... O God, but I'm tired, I'm

tired....

* * * * *

Roses she wore on her breast that night. Oh, but their scent was sweet;

Alone we sat on the balcony, and the fan-palms arched above;

The witching strain of a waltz by Strauss came up to our cool retreat,

And I prisoned her little hand in mine, and I whispered my plea of

love.

Then sudden the laughter died on her lips, and lowly she bent her head;

And oh, there came in the deep, dark eyes a look that was heaven

to see

And the moments went, and I waited there, and never a word was said,

And she plucked from her bosom a rose of red, and shyly gave it to

me.

Then the music swelled to a crash of joy, and the lights blazed up

like day;

And I held her fast to my throbbing heart, and I kissed her bonny

brow;

"She is mine, she is mine for evermore!" the violins seemed to say,

And the bells were ringing the New Year in--O God! I can hear them

now.

Don't you remember that long, last waltz, with its sobbing, sad

refrain?

Don't you remember that last goodbye, and the dear eyes dim with

tears?

Don't you remember that golden dream, with never a hint of pain,

Of lives that would blend like an angel-song in the bliss of the

coming year?

Oh, what have I lost! What have I lost! Ethel, forgive, forgive!

The red, red rose is faded now, and it's fifty years ago.

'Twere better to die a thousand deaths than live each day as I live!

I have sinned, I have sunk to the lowest depths--but oh, I have

suffered so!