THE WINE-PRESS
Who is this that comes from Edom
In such glorious array,
With his festal garments gleaming,
Travelling on his royal way
With a face majestic, calm and grave?
I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save.
Why is thy apparel crimson,
Why is all thy garments’ pride
Stained as in the time of vintage
And with blood-red-color dyed?
Because of helpers I had none—
I have trodden the wine-press alone.
VII
WAKEN, SHEPHERDS!
(Angels) Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!
(Shepherds) Waken, Shepherds, waken;
Whence this glowing light?
Ere the dawn of morning,
Solemn signs of warning
Portent of affright!
(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!
CAROLINE HAZARD
REUBEN ROY
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.
HAROLD CRAWFORD STEARNS