Poems (Kimball)/The Feast-time of the Year

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

THE FEAST-TIME OF THE YEAR.

THIS is the feast-time of the year
When hearts grow warm and home more dear;
When Autumn's crimson torch expires
To flash again in winter fires;
And they who tracked October's flight
Through woods with gorgeous hues bedight,
In charmed circle sit and praise
The goodly log's triumphant blaze.

This is the feast-time of the year
When Plenty pours her wine of cheer,
And even humble boards may spare
To poorer poor a kindly share;
While bursting barns and granaries know
A richer, fuller overflow,
And they who dwell in golden ease
Bless without toil yet toil to please.

This is the feast-time of the year:
The blessed Advent draweth near.
Let rich and poor together break
The bread of love for Christ's sweet sake,
Against the time when rich and poor
Must ope for Him a common door,
Who comes a Guest yet makes a feast,
And bids the greatest and the least.