Poem

A New Leaf


Here’s the volume: stain nor blot
Mars a leaf to-day;
Sin and folly, they are not;
Sorrow is away.
Look! Each page is white and clear,
And’t is morning of the year.

Of the days that swiftly run
This will not be mute:
Good or evil said or done,
Sweet or bitter fruit,
What shall be the record, dear,
At the evening of the year?

Ina D. Coolbrith