On the cusp between the years

In twenty eleven it's New Year's Eve

Quotidian concerns have taken leave

And jollity displaces gloom and care

While revelers assemble everywhere.

Soon celebrations will begin their course

And voices, in contention turning hoarse,

Continue in their chatter without stop

As hours to minutes, then to seconds, drop.

The clock that tolled our times, both good and drear,

Now takes the stage to mark the change of year,

And as the midnight stroke concludes the day

First dawn is born in infant twenty twelve.