Yule-Tide Fires
Cleanse with the burning log of oak
The canker of thy care,
Deck with the scarlet-berried bough
The temple of the fair;
Spread pure-white linen for a feast,
Perchance some guest may share.
Give forth thy gold and silver coins,
For they were lent to thee;
Put out to usury thy dross,
One talent gaineth three.
Perchance the hungered and the poor
May pray to God for thee.
Once a pale star rose in the East
For watching herds to see,
And weakness came to Bethlehem,
And strength to Galilee.
Perchance! if thou dost keep thy tryst
A star may rise for thee.
Anonymous