Skip to content
1793–1864

The Old Year

John Clare

The Old Year's gone away To nothingness and night: We cannot find him all the day Nor hear him in the night:

He left no footstep, mark or place In either shade or sun: The last year he'd a neighbour's face, In this he's known by none.

All nothing everywhere: Mists we on mornings see Have more of substance when they're here And more of form than he.

He was a friend by every fire, In every cot and hall — A guest to every heart's desire, And now he's nought at all.

Old papers thrown away, Old garments cast aside, The talk of yesterday, Are things identified;

But time once torn away No voices can recall: The eve of New Year's Day Left the Old Year lost to all.

Cookies on Poetry Cove

We use cookies to remember your language preference and — only with your consent — to learn how Poetry Cove is used. You can change your mind any time.
The Old Year · John Clare · Poetry Cove