Christianity

A Friendly Address

I like you, Mrs. Fry! I like your name!
It speaks the very warmth you feel in pressing
In daily act round Charity’ s great flame —
I like the crisp Browne way you have of dressing,
Good Mrs. Fry! I like the placid claim
You make to Christianity, — professing
Love, and good works — of course you buy of Barton,
Beside the young fry’ s bookseller, Friend Darton!

Christmas Tree Lots

Christmas trees lined like war refugees,
a fallen army made to stand in their greens.
Cut down at the foot, on their last leg,

they pull themselves up, arms raised.
We drop them like wood;
tied, they are driven through the streets,

dragged through the door, cornered
in a room, given a single blanket,
only water to drink, surrounded by joy.

Forced to wear a gaudy gold star,
to surrender their pride,
they do their best to look alive.

“Your Luck Is About To Change”

Ominous inscrutable Chinese news
to get just before Christmas,
considering my reasonable health,
marriage spicy as moo-goo-gai-pan,
career running like a not-too-old Chevrolet.
Not bad, considering what can go wrong:
the bony finger of Uncle Sam
might point out my husband,
my own national guard,
and set him in Afghanistan;
my boss could take a personal interest;
the pain in my left knee could spread to my right.
Still, as the old year tips into the new,
I insist on the infant hope, gooing and kicking

Jesus Christ Is Risen Today

Jesus Christ is risen to-day, Halle-halle-lujah.
Our triumphant Holy day,
Who so lately on the Cross
Suffered to redeem our loss.

Haste ye females from your fright,
Take to Galilee your flight;
To his sad disciples say,
Jesus Christ is risen to-day.

In our Paschal joy and feast
Let the Lord of life be blest;
Let the Holy Trine be praised,
And thankful hearts to heaven be raised.

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