Poems

<h4><SPAN name="THE_HOUSE_OF_CHRISTMAS" id="THE_HOUSE_OF_CHRISTMAS"></SPAN>THE HOUSE OF CHRISTMAS</h4> <p>There fared a mother driven forth<br/> Out of an inn to roam;<br/> In the place where she was homeless<br/> All men are at home.<br/> The crazy stable close at hand,<br/> With shaking timber and shifting sand,<br/> Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand<br/> Than the square stones of Rome.<br/> <br/> For men are homesick in their homes,<br/> And strangers under the sun,<br/> And they lay their heads in a foreign land<br/> Whenever the day is done.<br/> Here we have battle and blazing eyes,<br/> And chance and honour and high surprise,<br/> Where the yule tale was begun.<br/> <br/> A Child in a foul stable,<br/> Where the beasts feed and foam;<br/> Only where He was homeless<br/> Are you and I at home;<br/> We have hands that fashion and heads that<br/> But our hearts we lost&mdash;how long ago!<br/> In a place no chart nor ship can show<br/> Under the sky's dome.<br/> <br/> This world is wild as an old wives' tale,<br/> And strange the plain things are,<br/> The earth is enough and the air is enough<br/> For our wonder and our war;<br/> But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings<br/> And our peace is put in impossible things<br/> Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings<br/> Round an incredible star.<br/> <br/> To an open house in the evening<br/> Home shall men come,<br/> To an older place than Eden<br/> And a taller town than Rome.<br/> To the end of the way of the wandering star,<br/> To the things that cannot be and that are,<br/> To the place where God was homeless<br/> And all men are at home.<br/> <br/><br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />