At the New Year

By Kenneth Patchen 1911–1972 Kenneth Patchen

In the shape of this night, in the still fall

of snow, Father

In all that is cold and tiny, these little birds

and children

In everything that moves tonight, the trolleys

and the lovers, Father

In the great hush of country, in the ugly noise

of our cities

In this deep throw of stars, in those trenches

where the dead are, Father

In all the wide land waiting, and in the liners

out on the black water

In all that has been said bravely, in all that is

mean anywhere in the world, Father

In all that is good and lovely, in every house

where sham and hatred are

In the name of those who wait, in the sound

of angry voices, Father

Before the bells ring, before this little point in time

has rushed us on

Before this clean moment has gone, before this night

turns to face tomorrow, Father

There is this high singing in the air

Forever this sorrowful human face in eternity’s window

And there are other bells that we would ring, Father

Other bells that we would ring.

Source: Collected Poems (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1939)

Biography

Largely a self-taught writer, Kenneth Patchen never appeared to win widespread recognition from the professors at universities or many literary critics. As the New York Times Book Review noted, "While some critics tended to dismiss his work as naive, romantic, capricious and concerned often with the social problems of the 1930's, others found him a major voice in American poetry.... Even the most generous praise was usually . . .

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