A newspaper carrier, out delivering verses for the new year, admits he feels lost and far from the comfort of his village. He compares himself to a storm-tossed bee and decides to head straight back to his hive — that is, home. There’s genuine affection in his voice as he describes his love for the simple, warm hearth and the easy happiness of lounging by the fire. He wants nothing more than to share that contented feeling with everyone around him. But then the riotous noise of New Year’s bells and singing young people pulls him into the celebration. He breaks free, though, remembering his job isn’t done: he must show respect to the patrons who support him — the “wisdom and Beauty” of the community. The mood shifts from cozy, personal comfort to lighthearted, respectful cheer, ending with a polite bow and a sincere wish for the whole circle’s happiness in the year ahead.
1819 New Year's Carrier's Address — Summary
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.