New Year, I look straight in your eyes,
Our ways and our interests blend,
You may be a foe in disguise
But I shall believe you a friend.
We get what we give in our measure,
We cannot give pain and get pleasure,
I give you good will and good cheer
And you must return it, New Year.

We get what we give in this life,
Though often the giver indeed
Waits long upon doubting and strife
Ere proving the truth of my Creed.
But somewhere, someway, and forever
Reward is the meed of endeavor--
And if I am really worth while,
New Year, you will give me your smile.

You hide in your mystical hand
No "luck" that I cannot control,
If I trust my own courage and stand
On the Infinite strength of my soul.
Man holds in his brain and his spirit
A power that is God-like, or near it,
And he who has measured his force
Can govern events and their course.

You come with a crown on your brow,
New Year, without blemish or spot.
Yet you, and not I, sir, must bow,
For time is the servant of thought.
Whatever you bring me of trouble
Shall turn into good and then double.
If my spirit looks up without fear
To the Source that you came from, New Year.

Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906.

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