Among the fine New-Year's Addresses
    That greet you from the Daily Presses,
The simple Lines from your MUSEUM
,     'Tis fear'd you'll hardly read, or see 'em.

Yet splendor's not a certain sign
    Of soft compassion - pure regard,
The diamond sparkling from the mine,
    Is brilliant, gay - but very hard.

Delicious fruit we often find,
    Envellop'd in a rugged rhind;
A worthy heart may often warm
    A rude, uninteresting form.

Your simple Newsboy boasts no art
    In dressing nice, poetic dishes;
But this he boasts - a grateful heart,
    Fraught with the gentlest, kindest wishes.

He wishes, Elder Patrons, dear,
    He wishes you a happy year;
In health and wealth and friends and ease,
    And heirs, as many as you please.

To you, Young Ladies, pleasant homes,
    And ev'ry thing you ask in reason;
Gay mantles, hats, and crooked combs,
    And husbands too - in proper season.

Young Gentlemen, don't be uneasy,
    If honor, science, wives, will please ye,
Could he these precious things impart,
    He'd give you them, with all his heart.

And now kind patrons, one and all,
    He'll wish you lasting peace and joy;
He'd wish too, ere he leaves the hall,
    He'd wish - you'd not forget the Boy.