POEMS.
A CHRISTMAS SYMPHONY.
I.
CHRISTMAS stars! your pregnant silentness,Mute syllabled in rhythmic light,
Leads on to-night,
And beckons, as three thousand years ago
It beckoning led. We, simple shepherds, know
Little we can confess,
Beyond that we are poor, and creep
And wander with our sheep,
Who love and follow us. We hear,
If we attend, a singing in the sky;
But feel no fear,
Knowing that God is always nigh,
And none pass by,
Except His Sons, who cannot bring
Tidings of evil, since they sing.
Wise men with gifts are hurrying,
In haste to seek the meaning of the Star,
In search of worship which is new and far.
