How sad, how glad,
The Christmas morn!
Some say, “To-day
Dear Christ was born,
And hope and mirth
Flood all the earth;
Who would be sad
This Christmas morn.”
How glad, how sad,
The Christmas morn!
“To-day,” some say
Dear Christ was born,
But oh! He died;
Was crucified!
Who could be glad
This Christmas morn!
Or glad, or sad,
This Christmas morn,
To some will come
A joy new-born.
The fleeting breath
To some bring death,—
How glad, how sad
This Christmas morn.
This poem was published in In the Land of Fancy and Other Poems (F. T. Neely, 1902). This poem is in the public domain.
Christmas hath a darkness
Brighter than the blazing noon,
Christmas hath a chillness
Warmer than the heat of June,
Christmas hath a beauty
Lovelier than the world can show:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
Brought for us so low.
Earth, strike up your music,
Birds that sing and bells that ring;
Heaven hath answering music
For all Angels soon to sing:
Earth, put on your whitest
Bridal robe of spotless snow:
For Christmas bringeth Jesus,
Brought for us so low.
"Christmas Eve" was published in Verses (E. & J. B. Young, 1893). This poem is in the public domain.
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."
This poem is in the public domain.