Дора Сигерсон Шортер (Dora Sigerson Shorter)

A New Year

Behold! a new white world!
   The falling snow
Has cloaked the last old year
   And bid him go.

To-morrow! cries the oak-tree
   To his heart,
My sealèd buds shall fling
   Their leaves apart.

To-morrow! pipes the robin,
   And again
How sweet the nest that long
   Was full of rain.

To-morrow! bleats the sheep,
   And one by one
My little lambs shall frolic
   ’Neath the sun.

For us, too, let some fair
   To-morrow be,
O Thou who weavest threads
   Of Destiny!

Thou wast a babe on that
   Far Christmas Day,
Let us as children follow
   In Thy way.

So that our hearts grown cold
   ’Neath time and pain,
With young sweet faith may blossom
   Green again.

That empty promises
   Of passing years
Spring into life, and not
   Repenting tears.

So that our deeds upon
   The earth may go,
As innocent as lambs,
   And pure as snow.

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