  The New Year comes in the midnight hour When the beautiful world is still, And the moonlight falls in a silver stream Over meadow and wood and hill. We can not hear the tread of his feet, For so silently comes he; But the ringing bells the good news tell As they sound over land and sea. Where'er he steps new joys upspring, And hopes, that were lost or dim, Grow sweet and strong in the golden hours, That he everywhere bears with him. He brings us snow from the fleecy clouds; He sends us the springtime showers; He gladdens our world with the light of love And fills its lap with flowers. Some day, as softly as he came, He will pass through the open door, And we who sing at his coming now Will never see him more. —Marie Zetterberg. |
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