The wise men look no more toward the star;
The shepherds, all, are blinded in its light;
The herald-song is silenced by the jar
Of sudden death's triumphant scream. The blight
That will dwarf little children yet unborn,
Drops from the skies and lurks beneath the seas,
While venomed hate, this very Christmas morn,
Cankers the heart of nations, like disease.
A mockery in churches now is sung
Of Him, who taught the ways of peace, good will;
Rachel, again, is made to mourn her young
By Herods, who deny Him, as they kill--
Foul stench of war in smokes that reek and blur--
His gifts today--His frankincense and myrrh!
--December 25, 1941