Page:The Colonnades a Poem.pdf/18

As on the morning of the Lord's birth day
Men see the untrodden snow that all the night
Was softly falling into life's vile ways,
So clean, so Christ-like, sweetening human thoughts,
And mantling nature from the wrath to come,—
Go forth with greetings, glad news, shaking hands,
And say they knew it, long expected it,
And lo, it comes at last!—their hearts like lambs
Shall gambol in the sunshine, full of joy
To think the hour has come when it is great
To be religious, pleasant, merciful,—
To think he comes, defender of the faith,
Who puts the strength of greatness into good,—
No seer, no oracle, but brother plain,
The spokesman of the soul, the sea, the roses,
Whose wrath is sweeter charity than bread,
Whose laughter is thanksgiving to the gods,
Whose wit says blessing to the holiest feast,
The prince of nature, on whose brow the stars
Forecast their orbits centuries to come,
Titan of later date, whose blooded arms
Can shoulder aching Atlas and his load.

Martyrs have crowns for suffering, and the poor
The wandering, reckless and unfortunate
Gain patience if not wisdom. E'en so he,
Whose needs have eaten out of every dish,
Slept in all beds, and rider been and horse,
Hath by fruition compassed many lives.
So Christ plebeian tasted every death