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.