The Poetry Corner

New Year's Day

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When with clanging and with ringing Comes the year's initial day, I can feel the rhythmic swinging Of the world upon its way; And though Right still wears a fetter, And though Justice still is blind, Time's beyond is always better Than the paths he leaves behind. In our eons of existence, As we circle through the night, We annihilate the distance 'Twixt the darkness and the light. From beginnings crude and lowly, Round and round our souls have trod Through the circles, winding slowly Up to knowledge and to God. With each century departed Some old evil found a tomb, Some old truth was newly started In propitious soil to bloom. With each epoch some condition That has handicapped the race (Worn-out creed or superstition) Unto knowledge yields its place. Though in folly and in blindness And in sorrow still we grope, Yet in man's increasing kindness Lies the world's stupendous hope; For our darkest hour of errors Is as radiant as the dawn, Set beside the awful terrors Of the ages that have gone. And above the sad world's sobbing, And the strife of clan with clan, I can hear the mighty throbbing Of the heart of God in man; And a voice chants through the chiming Of the bells, and seems to say, We are climbing, we are climbing, As we circle on our way.