New Calendar by May E. Linton
This calendar holds all the days ahead,
This year of days and nights and hours, all spread
In printed squares upon a page...all new
And fresh and waiting wonder, as with dew...
These next twelve months through
which we shall be led.
And now the year that has so quickly sped
Belongs to history, a chapter read...
While this one to be written comes in view
.... this calendar.
Oh, this year, may our hungers all be fed
With more than meat and drink...the daily bread
for which our spirits cry is something true,
And purposeful, weaving its pattern through.
Each day, each year, tracing with beauty's thread
...This calendar. |