Old Father Christmas came once more,

His eye was bright if his hair was hoar,

And the old old gifts on his back he bore.

With the old loved legend now as then

The pleasantest ever inscribed by pen—

"Peace upon earth, goodwill to men."

What was it the good old greybeard saw?—

War's iron teeth, greed's gaping jaw,

And shaken order and broken law.

Each land ringed round with a fence of steel,

Each party snarling at other's heel;

None seeming loving, few looking leal.

Poverty spreading athwart the land,

With mutterings few dared understand,

Though they palsied Charity's helpful hand.

And the good old greybeard stood and gazed

At the thousand hearths where no Yule-fire blazed,

At the hate-led nations, the classes crazed.

"And oh!" he cried, "is it come, the time

When the land low grovels in greed and grime,

And heeds no longer my cheering chime?

"Is it past, all prospect of love's increase?

Is it time my rallying cry should cease—

'Peace and Good-will! Good-will and Peace!'?

"Is it fled, the hope that my heart has buoyed?

Is it finished, the labour in which I joyed?

Am I the chief of the Unemployed?"