(Angels) Courage, Shepherds, courage! Banish your dismay, or ye all are saved. In the town of David Christ is born to-day.
(Shepherds) Harken, Shepherds, harken, Hear the angels sing! Jehovah sends a token, He himself hath spoken To proclaim our King.
(Angels) Hasten, Shepherds, hasten, This shall be your sign; Where the kine are stabled, In a manger cradled Lies the Child Divine.
(Shepherds and Angels) Angels, Shepherds, People, Shout the glad refrain! Joy to every nation Bringing full salvation, Christ has come to reign. Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!
Little fellow, brown with wind— I saw him in the street Peering at numbers on the posts, But most discreet:
For when a woman came outdoors, Or slyly peeped instead, He turned away, took off his hat, And scratched his head.
I watched him from my garden-wall Perhaps an hour or more, For something in his attitude, The clothes he wore,
Awoke the dimmest memories Of when I was a boy And knew the story of a man Named Reuben Roy.
It seems that Reuben went to sea The night his wife decried The fence he built before their house And up the side.
He wanted it but she did not, Because it hid from view The spot in which her mignonette And tulips grew.
Nobody saw his face again, But each year, unawares, He sent a sum for taxes due— And fence repairs.
My curiosity aroused, I sauntered forth to see Whether this individual Were really he.
“Who are you looking for?” I asked His eyes, like two bright pence, Sparkled at mine; and then he said: “A fence.”
“Somebody burned it Hallowe’en, When people were in bed; Before the judge could prosecute, The culprit fled.”
Well, Reuben only touched his hat And mumbled, “Thank you, Sir,” And asked me whereabouts to find A carpenter.
I can’t forget a gaunt grey barn Like a face without an eye That kept recurring by field and tarn Under a Cape Cod sky.
I can’t forget a woman’s hand, Roughened and scarred by toil That beckoned clear-eyed children tanned By sun and wind and soil.
Beauty and hardship, bent and bound Under the selfsame yoke: Babies with bare knees plump and round And stooping women folk.
Red wreaths Hang in my neighbor’s window, Green wreaths in my own. On this day I lost my husband. On this day you lost your boy. On this day Christ was born. Red wreaths, Green wreaths Hang in Our Windows Red for a bleeding heart, Green for grave grass. Mary, mother of Jesus, Look down and comfort us. You too knew passion; You too knew pain. Comfort us, Who are not brides of God, Nor bore God. On Christmas day Hang wreaths, Red for new pain. Green for spent passion.