THE BEDESMAN OF THE YEAR
Stands Time, the gray old bedesman,And loosely through his holdSlip down the days like carven beads,Silver and dusk and gold.And each day hath its whispered prayer,Each one its patron saint;And each its tender memoriesLike incense sweet and faint.O gray old bedesman, when you’ve toldLife’s rosary all through,Leave us the old life’s memoryTo consecrate the new.