The New Day

by Ernest Slyman

What good the new day without the beauty of a sunrise,
The dogwoods had turned away,
The mulberry bush bowed to the ground,
The rose petals had told their little lies,
And already the rations of hope had gone round--
The wrens that usually peeped, made not a sound.
Providence had come, but it had not caught on,
Honesty had waged a brave, lonely battle,
Something had gone wrong with the world,
For the stars burned of pettiness, so pale to gaze upon,
The wishes they yielded so frail, slight.
An old gray battered sky hung overhead.
The brightest lantern beamed in a child's eyes,
One could not tell day from night,
Loomed the long dull gray skies,
The cornfields looked affright,
For all the pretty words said
Could not turn the world around,
Nor lend a hand to build a sunrise.