Here you will find the Poem 1819 New Year's Carrier's Address of poet Major Henry Livingston, Jr.
Believe me, dear patrons, I have wand'red too far, Without any compass, or planet or star; My dear native village I scarcely can see So I'll hie to my hive like the tempest-tost bee. Hail home! sacred home! to my soul ever dear; Abroad may be wonders but rapture is here. My future ambition will never soar higher Than the clean brushed hearth and convivial fire; Here I lounge at my pleasure, and bask at my ease, Full readily sooth'd, and desirous to please, As happy myself as I happy can be, I wish all the circle as happy as me. But hark what a clatter! the Jolly bells ringing, The lads and the lasses so jovially singing, Tis New-Years they shout and then haul me along In the mdist of their merry-make Juvenile throng; But I burst from their grasp: unforgetful of duty To first pay obeisence to wisdom and Beauty, My conscience and int'rest unite to command it, And you, my kind PATRONS, deserve & demand it. On your patience to trespass no longer I dare, So bowing, I wish you a Happy New Year.