Selected Poetry

New Zealand Tablet, Volume L, Issue 50, 20 December 1923, Page 28

Selected Poetry

A Child of the Snows There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim, And never before or again, When the nights' are strong with a darkness long, And the dark is alive with rain. Never we know but in sleet and in snow, The place where the great fires are, That the midst of the earth is a raging mirth And the heart of the earth a star. And at night wo win to the ancient inn Where the Child in the frost is furled, We follow the fee where all souls meet At the inn at the end of the world. The gods lie dead where the leaves lie red, For the flame of the sun is flown, And the gods lie cold where the leaves are gold, And a Child comes forth alone. — Gr. K. Chesterton. ¥ A Hymn 0 God of earth and altar, Bow down and hear our cry, Our earthly rulers falter, Our people drift and die; The walls of gold entomb us, • The swords of scorn divide, Take not Thy thunder from us, But take away our pride. From all that terror teaches, From lies of tongue and pen, From all the easy speeches That comfort cruel men, From sale and profanation Of honor and the sword, From sleep and from damnation, Deliver us, good Lord ! Tie in a living tether The prince and priest and thrall, Bind all our lives together, Smite us and save us all; In ire and exultation Aflame with faith and free, Lift up a living nation, A single sword to thee. —G. Iv. Chesterton. ¥ Christmas Day Wrapped in His swaddling bands, And in His manger laid, The Hope and Glory of all lands Is come to the world’s aid; No peaceful home upon His cradle smiled, Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal Child. But where Thou dwellst, Lord, No other thought should be, Once duly welcomed and adored, How should I part from Thee? Bethlehem must lose Thee Soon, but Thou wilt grace The single heart to he Thy sure abiding place. Thee, on the bosom laid Of a pure virgin mind, In quiet ever and in shade, Shepherd and sage may find; They, who have bowed untaught to Nature’s sway, And they, who follow Truth along her star-paved way. John Keble.

Christmas “And you shall have a Tree,” they say, “Now one is dead and one away?” Oh, I shall have a Christmas Tree 1 Brighter than ever shall it be; Dressed out with colored lights to make The room all glorious for your sake. And under the Tree a Child shall sleep Near shepherds watching their wooden sheep. Threads of silver and nets of gold, Scarlet bubbles the Tree shall hold, And little glass bells that tinkle clear. I shall trim it alone but feel you near. And when Christmas Day is almost done, When they all grow sleepy one by one, When Kcntion’s books have all been read, When Deborah’s climbing the stairs to bed, I shall sit by the fire and see Ghosts of you both come close to me. For the dead and the absent always stay With the one they love on Christmas Day. —Aline Kilmer. ¥ Doratis Dei It stood in Nazareth of yore, Half hidden in the narrow street, The little house unto whose door Came every day Emmanuel’s feet. Thither He came at end of day, Not of an hour, a passing Guest, But taking an accustomed way, A weary Householder to rest. He passed unheeded through the throng, Their Townsman, well-beloved and known, Nor sound of timbrel or of song Told when the Lord was with His own. 31 en could not sec about the door The myriad prostrate Cherubim, Nor know that low unto the floor His Mother bent the knee to Him. King Herod’s palace lies in dust, Dank is the Golden House with death, But Angels keep in holy trust The Holy House of Nazareth. When I, familiar with Thy grace, Am heedless of Thy glance, Thy word, That my soul was Thy dwelling-place, Keep this for my remembrance Lord. Then for no deed, no meed of mine, Who am forespent with futile things, But that this body was Thy shrine Bid Angels boar it on their wings. —Blanche M. Kelly. ¥ Nazareth (Children’s Hymn.) Lowly was the little town, Blest beyond all other, Where the youthful Saviour lived With His Holy Mother, Guarded, such was Heaven’s decree, By Saint Joseph faithfully. Never was a home so sweet As their humble dwelling; Every virtue flourished there. Charity excelling. Children’s homes should always be Full of God’s sweet charity. Jesus has another home Which he loves more dearly, Tis my heart when it is pure, Loving Him sincerely. Mary, Joseph, pray that He Ever may abide with me. W. H. Walsh, S.J.