And its ghosts were assembled there
Awaiting The Christmas Spirit'sReturn through the freezing air.
Their places in rank reflected
Their forfeited gold and land,
And far at the back was a poet
Who never could understand.
Then, "What are the living doing?"
Arose from the frost-clad host,
"To make us glad to hear it
From our spying Christmas Ghost?"
"Some Bankers grow rich," said The Spirit.
"Some Trustees are robbing their trusts.
Some Christian Hard-Workers can barely buy bread.
Some Preachers are fleecing their flocks.
Some Teachers are secretly praying
In schoolrooms where students need socks.
Some ignorant men talk very good sense
While Experts are babbling in schlock.
Some honored Doctors get very sick,
And some of their patients get well.
The laws are still made by The Lawyers;
They'll never make cheap what they sell."
"Go away! That's not new! said The Poet,
"Every year you have said that right there!""In a year men learn much," said The Spirit,
"I'll have much to report in a year.
Good moments are few; such moments are dear;
We honor Our God when we beg him in prayer:
"O Thou whose rich blessings fall fairly in streams,
Help men with their burden of sin.
Help Earth with its burden of men.
Help every Good Man be as good as he seems.
Help Poets to see what is meaningless means."