William Strode Poems

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We are prevented; you whose Presence is
A Publick New-yeares gift, a Common bliss
To all that Love or Feare, give no man leave
To vie a Gift but first he shall receave;
Like as the Persian Sun with golden Eies
First shines upon the Priest and Sacrifice.


Ile on howere; May this yeare happier prove
Than all the Golden Age when Vertue strove
With nothing but with Vertue; may it bee
Such as the Dayes of Saturnes Infancy.
May every Tide and Season joyntly fitt
All your Intents and your Occasions hitt:
May every Grayne of Sand within your Glass
Number a fresh content before it pass.
And when success comes on, stand then each howre
Like Josuah's Day, & grow to three or fowre:
At last when this yeare rounds and wheeles away,
Bee still the next yeare like the old yeares Day.

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