Through the darkness, stealing, stealing,
Comes their cadence, soft and low,
While their music, pealing, pealing,
Falls in sadness on the snow;
Bid thee think of tasks neglected,
Tell thee of the work undone,
Of the hopes that have been shattered,
E’er the year its course had run.
Hear the bells! their voices saying:—
“Of thy hopes keep but the best
With the falling of our voices,
Sinks the Old Year to its rest.”