Page:Poems (1915) G K Chesterton.djvu/86



HE thatch on the roof was as golden,

Though dusty the straw was and old,

The wind had a peal as of trumpets,

Though blowing and barren and cold,

The mother's hair was a glory

Though loosened and torn,

For under the eaves in the gloaming

A child was born.

Have a myriad children been quickened,

Have a myriad children grown old,

Grown gross and unloved and embittered,

Grown cunning and savage and cold?

God abides in a terrible patience,

Unangered, unworn,

And again for the child that was squandered

A child is born.

What know we of æons behind us,

Dim dynasties lost long ago,

Huge empires, like dreams unremembered,

Huge cities for ages laid low?