{"newspaper_name": "New-York daily tribune.", "edition": "01", "page": "p4", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 1670, "word_count": 299, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9142000079154968], "ccnet_perplexity": [2289.800048828125], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
/.
wHES, al the middle hour Of night,
Died, with a moan, the poor Old Year.
A friar came Of orders white,


And stretched the corse upon bier:
Hia scapulaire was thin and pale.
And fashioned were the beads Of hail
That hung his neck around
Wild Spirits of the creaking wood
Of withered leaves had made his hood
OF silver edging bound.
Saint Januarius had heard


The Summons of higher Power
To don his State. with ermine furred,
And chaunt a, Midnighi's dreary hour;
Long looked he on the slumberer old
With hand upon the temples cold


To which boar frost clang;
Then reauiescat for the dead,
Barring with reverence his head,


The Holy Traveller sung.
Rest, Traveller! the goal is gained
In Shadeland rest forevermore;
Thy suns have set, thy moons have waned'
Thine hours of bloom and blight are o'er
Dark was the twilight Of thy days,
No golden beam dispersed the haze.
And Winter Knocked thy sighs.
While falling in the Snow-drift down
And sent his Nor'land' blast to drown
With savage howl thy cries
Rest, Pilgrim, rest! the burthen grew
Too heavy for thy back to bear
The glory that thy manhood knew


Gave place to darkness and despair
The ticking note of falling snow
Was little like the murmur low


Of Summers gentle rain;
And, oh unlike her roses lost
Was the pale foliage by the frost
Traced on rafting pane.
The pine, pyran,idal of form


Though Earth be drear, the tempest loud
Tints of the Spring time. green and warm
Discloses through its frosty shroud -
These, ike the rainbow, token gave
That Mays green banner yet would wave
Birds warble in the shade
But cheered not thy old, withered heart
For in Earth's history thy part


Again could not be played
