LXXII
A Christmas Prayer
From the Trenches
NOT yet for us may Christmas bring
Good-will to men, and peace;
In our dark sky no angels sing,
Not yet the great release
For men, when war shall cease.
So must the guns our carols make,
Our gifts must bullets be,
For us no Christmas bells shall wake;
These ruined homes shall see
No Christmas revelry.
In hardened hearts we fain would greet
The Babe at Christmas born,
But lo, He comes with piercèd feet,
Wearing a crown of thorn,—
His side a spear has torn.
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