The Bedesman Of The Year

Stands Time, the gray old bedesman, And loosely through his hold Slip down the days like carven beads, Silver and dusk and gold.

And each day hath its whispered prayer, Each one its patron saint; And each its tender memories Like incense sweet and faint.

O gray old bedesman, when you’ve told Life’s rosary all through, Leave us the old life’s memory To consecrate the new.