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Poem	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 coem true; Each sunrise sees a new year born.
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