 | A Sonnet Chronicle |  |
65
The New Year, 1905
Come from the gates of morning, glad New Year,
With look of exultation in your eyes.
Bring in new hope, new dreams, new prophecies
Of far-off good to bid us persevere.
We are not recreant, reft of hope—we hear
The sound of happy streamlets, silent skies
Flush, and the mountains in calm grandeur rise,
And like a dreamless sleeper lies the mere.
With look of exultation in your eyes.
Bring in new hope, new dreams, new prophecies
Of far-off good to bid us persevere.
We are not recreant, reft of hope—we hear
The sound of happy streamlets, silent skies
Flush, and the mountains in calm grandeur rise,
And like a dreamless sleeper lies the mere.
Shall all this peace and beauty that awaits
Your advent have no message for the mind?
Shall we not tune our hearts to high intent,
Sing as the streams, go forth from silent gates
Of duty, flushed with joy, and bless mankind
By learning mountain-calm and mere's content?
Your advent have no message for the mind?
Shall we not tune our hearts to high intent,
Sing as the streams, go forth from silent gates
Of duty, flushed with joy, and bless mankind
By learning mountain-calm and mere's content?
| A Sonnet Chronicle | |