The Toast

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.