New Year’s Morning

New Year’s Morning | Helen Hunt Jackson

Two days to go before we bid goodbye to 2018 forever. While many of you would be planning for the great year end party, we, at Mukarrar, are drowning ourselves in the deluge of new year poems. In our series commemorating the new year, we bring to you ‘New Year’s Morning‘ by Helen Hunt Jackson. This is a beautiful poem about hope and what we leave behind every year. Helen Hunt Jackson pens a beautiful memoir of how the new is born from the old.

Helen Hunt Jackson | The Poet

Best known for her massively read novel ‘Ramona‘ published in 1884, Helen Hunt Jackson was an American author and poet. Helen’s work is believed to escalate the number of tourists visiting California to visit and see the places mentioned in her novels. Imagine the charm of such a writer and the immense impact her work must have had in her time. Besides a popular novelist, Helen Hunt Jackson was also a poet, a good one at that too.

Here’s a picture of the first edition of Helen Hunt Jackson’s noel ‘Ramona’. Isn’t it absolutely fabulous?

Helen Hunt Jackson | Ramona Book Cover
Helen Hunt Jackson | Ramona Book Cover

We have recently published a series of Christmas poems and New Year poems on our blog. If you wish to read more of such poems, just register on Mukarrar and deep dive in the world of amazing poetry. If you like this post, share it with your friends and wish them the new year in style.

Helen Hunt Jackson | New Year's Poem
Helen Hunt Jackson | New Year’s Poem

New Year’s Morning | Helen Hunt Jackson | The Poem

Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year’s heart all weary grew,
But said: “The New Year rest has brought.”
The Old Year’s hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but, trusting, said:
“The blossoms of the New Year’s crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead.”
The Old Year’s heart was full of greed;
With selfishness it longed and ached,
And cried: “I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.
But to the New Year’s generous hand
All gifts in plenty shall return;
True love it shall understand;
By all my failures it shall learn.
I have been reckless; it shall be
Quiet and calm and pure of life.
I was a slave; it shall go free,
And find sweet peace where I leave strife.”
Only a night from old to new!
Never a night such changes brought.
The Old Year had its work to do;
No New Year miracles are wrought.
Always a night from old to new!
Night and the healing balm of sleep!
Each morn is New Year’s morn come true,
Morn of a festival to keep.
All nights are sacred nights to make
Confession and resolve and prayer;
All days are sacred days to wake
New gladness in the sunny air.
Only a night from old to new;
Only a sleep from night to morn.
The new is but the old come true;
Each sunrise sees a new year born.

Thank you for reading! We hope you liked this wonderful poem by Helen Hunt Jackson. To read more such poems, subscribe to Mukarrar.

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