POETRY.
THE FOURTH CHRISTMAS.
Oh, shepherd, shepherd, did you see, Belore day broke, one gleantiny star 1" Flashes of light continually
Where the contending armies are, But no star shining overhead To show a way to the three Kings— Only a sunrise streaked with red And spattered with the broad black wings Of crows that seek their meat from God Along the roads that men hare trod.
" Shepherd. shepherd, what did you hear.
Before the dawn as you watched your sheep:. No angel voice rang sweet and clear.
The night was cold, I could not sleep -
As I lay out upon the hill; In that dark hour I never heard Even the twitter of a bird Dreaming beside its mate, but still, Where, far below, the river runs, The ceaseless thunder of the guns.
" Oh, shepherd, shepherd, you must know The Son of God Himself was born In a poor stable long ago On such another winter's morn 1" My boy and I in other years Together watched our hillside fold.
But he was young, and I am old. .
To-day He sees a father's tears
Who knew a Father's pride and loss Between that stable and the cross.
MORAY DALTON.
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