Poems (Kimball)/The Feast-time of the Year
THE FEAST-TIME OF THE YEAR.
THIS is the feast-time of the yearWhen 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.