The Bedesman of the Year
Stands Time, the gray old bedesman,
And loosely through his hold
Slip 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 memories
Like incense sweet and faint.
O gray old bedesman, when you’ve told
Life’s rosary all through,
Leave us the old life’s memory
To consecrate the new.