The Time Of Truce

Two young lads from childhood up
Drank together friendship's cup:
Joe was glad with Bill at play,
Bill was home to Joe alway.

On their friendship came the blight
Of a little thoughtless fight;
Then, alas! each passing day
Farther bore these friends away.

There was grief in either heart,
Bleeding deep from sorrow's dart,
When in thoughtfulness again
Each beheld the other's pain.

But the shades of night are furled
When the morning takes the world,
And the Christmas days of peace
Make our little quarrels cease.

Bill and Joe on Christmas Day
Met as in the olden way;
Bill put out his hand to Joe,--
It was Christmas Day, you know.

Bill and Joe are friends again,
And to them long years remain;
Time may take them far away,
They keep Christmas every day.

Michael Earls

Michael Earls, born on November 2, 1875, and died on November 7, 1937, was an American poet, playwright, and Jesuit priest. He was a prolific writer, contributing to numerous American periodicals and magazines. His works often explored themes of faith, nature, and human experience. He was known for his engaging style and profound insights into spirituality and everyday life. Earls had a significant influence on Catholic literature in America during the early 20th century.

Michael Earls

The Storyteller

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

The Countersign

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

Off To The War

Michael Earls, Simple Poetry

English

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A Christmas Eve

Good fellows are laughing and drinking
(To-night no heart should grieve),
But I am of old days thinking,
Alone, on Christmas Eve.
Old memories fast are springing
To life again; old rhymes
Once more in my brain are ringing,
Ah, God be with old times!

There never was man so lonely
But ghosts walked him beside,
For Death our spirits can only
By veils of sense divide.
Numberless as the blades of
Grass in the fields that grow,
Around us hover the shades of
The dead of long ago.

Friends living a word estranges;
We smile, and we say Adieu!
But, whatsoever else changes,
Dead friends are faithful and true.
An old-time tune, or a flower,
The simplest thing held dear
In bygone days has the power
Once more to bring them nea...

Victor James Daley

The Happy Time

Two gloomy scenes may be,
Or count you three:
A building hope all crushed at morn,
A bridal day in clouds of rain,
And night that keeps a mother's pain
For tidings of a child forlorn.

Of happy times count more,
Admit these four:
A flower of promise rich with day,
A son with victories that wear
A halo on his mother's way:
And friends whose hearts ring like a chime
Across the world at Christmas time.

Michael Earls

Christmas Eve

    Friend, old friend in the Manse by the fireside sitting,
        Hour by hour while the grey ash drips from the log;
    You with a book on your knee, your wife with her knitting,
    Silent both, and between you, silent, the dog.

    Silent here in the south sit I; and, leaning,
        One sits watching the fire, with chin upon hand;
    Gazes deep in its heart--but ah! its meaning
        Rather I read in the shadows and understand.

    Dear, kind she is; and daily dearer, kinder,
        Love shuts the door on the lamp and our two selves:

Not my stirring awakened the flame that behind her
        Lit up a face in the leathern dusk of the shelves.

    Veterans are my books, with tarnished gilding:
        Yet there is one gives back to the wint...

Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch

On a Train

But a fortnight later, by an autumn tree,
Aileen and her brother came my way,
And another, glad to tell the names of them and me,
And to hear how travellers can play.

Life is but a journey, say we evermore,
Passing lights the years have, like a train;
Three good friends will travel up to heaven's door,
With the world a merry window-pane.

Michael Earls

Bill And Joe

Come, dear old comrade, you and I
Will steal an hour from days gone by,
The shining days when life was new,
And all was bright with morning dew,
The lusty days of long ago,
When you were Bill and I was Joe.

Your name may flaunt a titled trail
Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail,
And mine as brief appendix wear
As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare;
To-day, old friend, remember still
That I am Joe and you are Bill.

You've won the great world's envied prize,
And grand you look in people's eyes,
With H O N. and L L. D.
In big brave letters, fair to see, -
Your fist, old fellow! off they go! -
How are you, Bill? How are you, Joe?

You've worn the judge's ermined robe;
You 've taught your name to half the globe;
You've sung mankind a ...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Christmas.

Old father Time, his cruel scythe
Has swung full oft around,
Since last the merry Christmas, bells
Rang out their cheerful sound.
With cruel vigor he has held
His great, impartial sway,
And many thousands mown to earth,
Who saw last Christmas day.

For some have left this world for aye,
Who dwelt with us last year;
Glad voices heard amongst us then,
We never more shall hear.
But still we'll build our Christmas fires,
And sing our Christmas songs,
And for one day forget our griefs,
Our failures and our wrongs.

Then ring, ye joyful bells, ring out;
Ye crashing cymbals fall;
And for old Christmas, hale and stout,
Sound up, ye harps and all.
Let music's loud and sweetest strain
Beat from our hearts each ill;
Let thoughts of...

Thomas Frederick Young