The New Year

________________________________________________
Title:     The New Year
Author: George MacDonald [More Titles by MacDonald]

Be welcome, year! with corn and sickle come;
Make poor the body, but make rich the heart:
What man that bears his sheaves, gold-nodding, home,
Will heed the paint rubbed from his groaning cart!

Nor leave behind thy fears and holy shames,
Thy sorrows on the horizon hanging low--
Gray gathered fuel for the sunset-flames
When joyous in death's harvest-home we go.

[The end]
George MacDonald's poem: New Year

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN