Friday the Thirteenth Moon

Friday the 13th and a bloated moon

That looms low above chimney pots

On this cold morn before dawn. Soon

There will be sunshine. Lots and lots.

Ring in the New

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,

   The flying cloud, the frosty light:

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

   The year is dying in the night;

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,

   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:

   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,

   The year is going, let him go;

Ring out the grief that saps the mind

   For those that here we see no more;

Ring in redress to all mankind.

With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,

   And ancient forms of party strife;

   Ring in the nobler modes of life,

   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,

   The faithless coldness of the times;

But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

   The civic slander and the spite;

Ring in the common love of good.

   Ring in the love of truth and right,

   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;

   Ring out the thousand wars of old,

   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;

Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

   Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be.

                                                                      (Tennyson)