THE earth has grown old with its burden of care, But at Christmas it always is young, The heart of the jewel burns lustrous and fair, And its soul full of music bursts forth on the air, When the song of the angels is sung. It is coming, Old Earth, it is coming to-night! On the snowflakes which cover thy sod The feet of the Christ-child fall gentle and white And the voice of the Christ-child tells out with delight That mankind are the children of God. On the sad and the lowly, the wretched and poor, The voice of the Christ-child shall fall; And to every blind wanderer open the door Of hope that he dared not to dream of before, With a sunshine of welcome for all. The feet of the humblest may walk in the field Where the feet of the Holiest trod, This, then, is the marvel to mortals revealed When the silvery trumpets of Christmas have pealed, That mankind are the children of God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A NORTHERN SUBURB by JOHN DAVIDSON A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE BALLADE OF BLUE CHINA by ANDREW LANG A CANADIAN BOAT SONG; WRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE by THOMAS MOORE THE OLD MAN AND JIM by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY EROS TURANNOS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |