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New Year Poetry

New Year's Morning

    Only a night from old to new!
    Only a night, and so much wrought!
    The Old Year's heart all weary grew,
    But said: "The New Year rest has brought
    The Old Year's hopes its heart laid down,
    As in a grave; but trusting, said:"
    The blossoms of the New Year's crown
    Bloom from the ashes of the dead."
    The Old Year's heart was full of greed;
    With selfishness it longed and ached,
    And cried: "I have not half I need.
    My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
    But to the New Year's generous hand
    All gifts in plenty shall return;
    True love it shall understand;
    By all y failures it shall learn.
    I have been reckless; it shall be
    Quiet and calm and pure of life.
    I was a slave; it shall go free,
    And find sweet pace where I leave strife."

    Only a night from old to new!
    Never a night such changes brought.
    The Old Year had its work to do;
    No New Year miracles are wrought.

    Always a night from old to new!
    Night and the healing balm of sleep!
    Each morn is New Year's morn come true,
    Morn of a festival to keep.
    All nights are sacred nights to make
    Confession and resolve and prayer;
    All days are sacred days to wake
    New gladness in the sunny air.
    Only a night from old to new;
    Only a sleep from night to morn.
    The new is but the old come true;
    Each sunrise sees a new year born.

    - Helen Hunt Jackson

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