'WHO is this little one lying,'
Said Time, 'at my garden-gate,
Moaning and sobbing and crying,
Out in the cold so late?'

'They lurked until we came near,
Master and I,' the child said,
'Then caught me, with 'Welcome, New-year!
Happy Year! Golden-head!'

'See Christmas-day, my Master,
On the meadow a mile away!
Father Time, make me run faster!
I'm the Shadow of Christmas-day!'

'Run, my child; still he's in sight!
Only look well to his track;
Little Shadow, run like the light,
He misses you at his back!'

Old Time sat down in the sun
On a grave-stone-his legs were numb:
'When the boy to his master has run,'
He said, 'Heaven's New Year is come!'