Poetry,+a+clean+new+book

A clean new book
(Unknown author)

Midnight strikes, and the old year is gone. We close the tablets we've written on: And, torn 'twixt hope and doubt and fear, We open the book of an unlived year.

But fresh in our hands--once more--is laid A clean new book, by the master made; Unmarred are the pages lying there Twelve new chapters, fresh and fair.

It is ours to write the daily tale Of how we conquer or how we fail; Of struggle and effort and hope and wakes Like a sun in the heart when a bright day breaks.

Once a year, when the glad bells ring, And the old year nods to a baby king, Fresh in our hands, with a title clear And the leaves uncut, is an unlived year.