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The Birth of Hope

by Douglas Malloch

Last night the path of life was drear
And dead leaves shivered in the breeze.
Last night the world was bleak and blear,
And want and sorrow, pain and fear,
Lurked in the shadows of the trees.

Dead leaves, dead leaves of other days,
Touched by the frost of fate unkind,
Lay clustered deep in woodland ways
Or hurried over frozen bays,
Urged by an unrelenting wind.

But lo! the new year and the morn
Came with the passing of the night.
Another life and world were born—
The sable curtains, rent and torn,
Revealed a vista fair and bright.

The trees, new-leaved, are filled with bloom—
The buds of new and happy hours.
Gone are the midnight and the gloom,
And golden shafts of light illume
Hope's fragrant pathway strewn with flowers.

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