New Year

Farewell to the old year forever,

And all its sorrows and care

We'll bury in our hearts, and endeavor

New troubles and trials to bear.

The old year has gone with its sadness,

In oblivion to dwell evermore;

The new year will come with its gladness,

To welcome the rich and the poor.

Ah, welcome the new year with pleasure,

And welcome home friends, that is dear;

Be happy and joyful together,

And greet each happy new year.

Some people will meet in sadness,

For death has entered their home,

And robbed them of joy and gladness,

And left them forsaken and lone.

Young people not meet it in sorrow,

For their hearts are blithesome and gay,

Trouble will come with tomorrow,

So let them be happy today.

Farewell to the old year forever;

Lay its sorrows aside with a tear.

Think of the future; and endeavor

To greet each happy new year.

--Julia A Moore

New Year

Farewell to the old year forever,

And all its sorrows and care

We'll bury in our hearts, and endeavor

New troubles and trials to bear.

The old year has gone with its sadness,

In oblivion to dwell evermore;

The new year will come with its gladness,

To welcome the rich and the poor.

Ah, welcome the new year with pleasure,

And welcome home friends, that is dear;

Be happy and joyful together,

And greet each happy new year.

Some people will meet in sadness,

For death has entered their home,

And robbed them of joy and gladness,

And left them forsaken and lone.

Young people not meet it in sorrow,

For their hearts are blithesome and gay,

Trouble will come with tomorrow,

So let them be happy today.

Farewell to the old year forever;

Lay its sorrows aside with a tear.

Think of the future; and endeavor

To greet each happy new year.

--Julia A Moore

To My Friends and Critics

Come all you friends and critics,

And listen to my song,

A word I will say to you,

It will not take me long,

The people talks about me,

They've nothing else to do

But to criticise their neighbors,

And they have me now in view.

Perhaps they talk for meanness,

And perhaps it is in jest,

If they leave out their freeness

It would suit me now the best,

To keep the good old maxim

I find it hard to do,

That is to do to others

As you wish them do to you.

Perhaps you've read the papers

Containing my interview;

I hope you kind good people

Will not believe it true.

Some Editors of the papers

They thought it would be wise

To write a column about me,

So they filled it up with lies.

The papers have ridiculed me

A year and a half or more.

Such slander as the interview

I never read before.

Some reporters and editors

Are versed in telling lies.

Others it seems are willing

To let industry rise.

The people of good judgment

Will read the papers through,

And not rely on its truth

Without a candid view.

My first attempt at literature

Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,

I wrote that book without a thought

Of the future, or of fame.

Dear Friends, I write for money,

With a kind heart and hand,

I wish to make no Enemies

Throughout my native land.

Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,

And lay my pen aside,

Between me and my critics

I leave you to decide.

-- Julia A Moore

To My Friends and Critics

Come all you friends and critics,

And listen to my song,

A word I will say to you,

It will not take me long,

The people talks about me,

They've nothing else to do

But to criticise their neighbors,

And they have me now in view.

Perhaps they talk for meanness,

And perhaps it is in jest,

If they leave out their freeness

It would suit me now the best,

To keep the good old maxim

I find it hard to do,

That is to do to others

As you wish them do to you.

Perhaps you've read the papers

Containing my interview;

I hope you kind good people

Will not believe it true.

Some Editors of the papers

They thought it would be wise

To write a column about me,

So they filled it up with lies.

The papers have ridiculed me

A year and a half or more.

Such slander as the interview

I never read before.

Some reporters and editors

Are versed in telling lies.

Others it seems are willing

To let industry rise.

The people of good judgment

Will read the papers through,

And not rely on its truth

Without a candid view.

My first attempt at literature

Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,

I wrote that book without a thought

Of the future, or of fame.

Dear Friends, I write for money,

With a kind heart and hand,

I wish to make no Enemies

Throughout my native land.

Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,

And lay my pen aside,

Between me and my critics

I leave you to decide.

-- Julia A Moore