GARDENERS' CHRONICLE 



OF AMERICA 



DEVOTED TO THE SCIENCE OF FLORICULTURE AND HORTICULTURE 



ADOPTED AS THE OFFICIAL ORGAN OF 



THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF GARDENERS 



Vol. XVII. 



ANUARV. I'JU. 



5f^iu ^^ar^s ?Rrsolu0 



As the dead year is clasped fcp a dead December, 



So lei vour dead sins with your dead davs lie. 

 A new life is yours, and a new hope! Remember 



We build our own ladders to climb to the sky. 

 Stand out in the sunlight of promise, forgetting 



Whatever your past held of sorrow or wrong; 

 We waste bald our strength in a useless regretting; 



We sit by old tombs in the dark ^oo long. 



Have you missed in your aim? Well, the mark is still shining. 



Did you faint in the race? Well, take breath for the next. 

 Did the clouds drive you back? But see yonder their lining. 



Were you tempted, and fell? Let it serve for a text. 

 As each year hurries by, let it join that procession 



Of skeleton shapes that march down to the past. 

 While you take your place in the line of progression. 



With your eyes on the heavens, your face to the blast. 



I tell you the future can hold no terrors 



For any sad soul while the stars revolve. 

 If he will but stand firm on the grave of his errors. 



And, instead of regretting, resolve, resolve! 

 It is never loo late to begin rebuilding. 



Though all into ruins your life seems hurled. 

 For look! how the light of the New Year is gilding 



The worn, wan face of the bruised old world! 



— Ella Wheeler Wilcox 



