The New Year
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E was the one man I met up in the woodsThat stormy New Year's morning; and at first sight,Fifty yards off, I could not tell how muchOf the strange tripod was a man. His body,Bowed horizontal, was supported equallyBy legs at one end, by a rake at the other:Thus he rested, far less like a man thanHis wheel-barrow in profile was like a pig.But when I saw it was an old man bent,At the same moment came into my mindThe games at which boys bend thus, _High- Cockalorum_,Or _Fly-the-garter_, and _Leap-frog_. At the soundOf footsteps he began to straighten himself;His head rolled under his cape like a tortoise's;He took an unlit pipe out of his mouthPolitely ere I wished him "A Happy New Year,"And with his head cast upward sideways Muttered--So far as I could hear through the trees' roar--"Happy New Year, and may it come fastish, too,"While I strode by and he turned to raking leaves.
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