New Year's Eve
by Imelda Octavia Shanklin
The new year comes again tonight,
To bring new joys to me:
New, pretty things on every hand,
Wherever I may be:
Such new, sweet things to see.
New snows to cover all the ground,
Soft falling in the night,
To heap the twigs of leafless trees
With puffs of crystal white,
And make the earth a magic place
Of glimmer and of light
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