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12/24/2004 Entry: "To Jesus on His Birthday"
"To Jesus on His Birthday"
For this your mother sweated in the cold,
For this you bled upon the bitter tree:
A yard of tinsel ribbon bought and sold;
A paper wreath; a day at home for me.
The merry bells ring out, the people kneel;
Up goes the man of God before the crowd;
With voice of honey and with eyes of steel
He drones your humble gospel to the proud.
Nobody listens. Less than the wind that blows
Are all your words to us you died to save.
O Prince of Peace! O Sharon's dewy Rose!
How mute you lie within your vaulted grave.
The stone the angel rolled away with tears
Is back upon your mouth these two thousand years.
--Edna St. Vincent Milay
Replies: 2 people have rocked the mic!
Nice powerful piece of poetry Bill. Thanks for sharing it.
Sad to think that these days the holy land's "Rose of Sharon" has transmuted into the vast palestinian cemeteries colloquially called "The Rows of Sharon"
(Ariel, that is).
Ron
Posted by Ron Huber @ 12/24/2004 03:37 PM EST
Happy Holidays Billy! I hope you and your family had a great day!
Posted by Michelle @ 12/26/2004 08:18 PM EST