By HELEN HUNT JACKSON.
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 heart its hopes 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 loving it shall understand;

By all my 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 peace where I leave strife."
Only a night from old to new!

Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year's morn come true,

More 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.