The Un-lived Year – Author Unknown
Midnight strikes, and the old year’s gone. We close the tablets we’ve written on. And torn ‘twixt hope and doubt and fear, we open the book of the Un-lived year!
An Un-lived year! Ah, stained with tears are the well-thumbed volumes of other years! Soiled by blunders and black regret are the pages we read with eyelids wet.
But fresh in our hands once more is laid a clean, new book by the Master made. Unmarred are the pages lying there — Twelve new chapters fresh and fair.
It is ours to write the daily tale, of how we conquer – or how we fail; Of struggle and effort and hope that makes like a song in the heart, when the bright day breaks.
Yes, fresh in our hands with the title clear, is the challenge now of an Un-lived year!
This poem was a favorite of my Mom’s and she read it aloud to me each New Year’s Eve. I am sorry that I do not know its author.