Mary's thoughts were far--
Angels sang in the wintry weather
Under a star.

Mary sat in the corner weeping,
Bitter and hot her tears--
Little faith were the angels keeping
All the years.




THE CARPENTER'S SON

THE summer dawn came over-soon,
The earth was like hot iron at noon
In Nazareth;
There fell no rain to ease the heat,
And dusk drew on with tired feet
And stifled breath.

The shop was low and hot and square,
And fresh-cut wood made sharp the air,
While all day long
The saw went tearing thru the oak
That moaned as tho' the tree's heart broke
Beneath its wrong.

The narrow street was full of cries,
Of bickering and snarling lies