Led by a star, a golden star, The youngest star, an olden star, Here the kings and the shepherds are, Akneeling on the ground. What did they come to the inn to see? God in the Highest, and this is He, A baby asleep on His mother’s knee And with her kisses crowned. Now is the earth a dreary place, A troubled place, a weary place. Peace has hidden her lovely face And turned in tears away. Yet the sun, through the war-cloud, sees Babies asleep on their mother’s knees. While there are love and home--and these-- There shall be Christmas Day. MAIN STREET (For S. M. L.) I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea, But it isn’t half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow, And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go. Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, it was a pleasant thing, And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in the Spring; I like to think of it white with frost or dusty in the heat, Because I think it is humaner than any other street. A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels, And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels: It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends, But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends. There were only about a hundred teams on Main Street in a day, And twenty or thirty people, I guess, and some children out to play. And there wasn’t a wagon or buggy, or a man or a girl or a boy That Main Street didn’t remember, and somehow seem to enjoy. The truck and the motor and trolley car and the elevated train They make the weary city street reverberate with pain: But there is yet an echo left deep down within my heart Of the music the Main Street cobblestones made beneath a butcher’s cart. God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs across the sky, That’s the path that my feet would tread whenever I have to die. Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a Pearly Crown, But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, Heaventown. ROOFS (For Amelia Josephine Burr) The road is wide and the stars are out and the breath of the night is sweet, And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet. But I’m glad to turn from the open road and the starlight on my face, And to leave the splendour of out-of-doors for a human dwelling place. I never have seen a vagabond who really liked to roam All up and down the streets of the world and not to have a home: The tramp who slept in your barn last night and left at break of day Will wander only until he finds another place to stay.