BY FRANCES V. HUBBARD.
The city slept, some saw the star
That led the Wise Men on their way,
Nor yet the wondrous light that shone
On Bethlehem's plain, more bright than day.
None heard the angel's voice that spoke—
Not one in Bethlehem's ancient town—
Nor saw the white-robed shining host
From heaven to earth come floating down.
Yet, none the less, the star, the voice,
Were there, upon that Christmas morn,
And clear rang thro' the chilly air
The song, "The Prince of Peace is born."
To-day we hear no voice, no star
Shines thro' the gloom, we hear no song,
The tumult and the strife of war
Call me to arms in deadly throng.
Yet, as of old, beyond our sight,
Perchance more near than we can dream,
The Star, that star, is shining bright
And o'er the earth in peace may beam.
Again, thrilling the world with joy,
The angel song may ring some morn,
With meaning glad for all mankind,
"Rejoice forever! Peace is born!"
Troy Times. January 9, 1918: 15 col 1.