| HE took a frayed hat from his head, | |
| And “Peace on Earth” was what he said. | |
| “A morsel out of what you’re worth, | |
| And there we have it: Peace on Earth. | |
| Not much, although a little more | 5 |
| Than what there was on earth before | |
| I’m as you see, I’m Ichabod,— | |
| But never mind the ways I’ve trod; | |
| I’m sober now, so help me God.” | |
| |
| I could not pass the fellow by. | 10 |
| “Do you believe in God?” said I; | |
| “And is there to be Peace on Earth?” | |
| |
| “Tonight we celebrate the birth,” | |
| He said, “of One who died for men; | |
| The Son of God, we say. What then? | 15 |
| Your God, or mine? I’d make you laugh | |
| Were I to tell you even half | |
| That I have learned of mine today | |
| Where yours would hardly seem to stay. | |
| Could He but follow in and out | 20 |
| Some anthropoids I know about, | |
| The god to whom you may have prayed | |
| Might see a world He never made.” | |
| |
| “Your words are flowing full,” said I; | |
| “But yet they give me no reply; | 25 |
| Your fountain might as well be dry.” | |
| |
| “A wiser One than you, my friend, | |
| Would wait and hear me to the end; | |
| And for his eyes a light would shine | |
| Through this unpleasant shell of mine | 30 |
| That in your fancy makes of me | |
| A Christmas curiosity. | |
| All right, I might be worse than that; | |
| And you might now be lying flat; | |
| I might have done it from behind, | 35 |
| And taken what there was to find. | |
| Don’t worry, for I’m not that kind. | |
| ‘Do I believe in God?’ Is that | |
| The price tonight of a new hat? | |
| Has he commanded that his name | 40 |
| Be written everywhere the same? | |
| Have all who live in every place | |
| Identified his hidden face? | |
| Who knows but he may like as well | |
| My story as one you may tell? | 45 |
| And if he show me there be Peace | |
| On Earth, as there be fields and trees | |
| Outside a jail-yard, am I wrong | |
| If now I sing him a new song? | |
| Your world is in yourself, my friend, | 50 |
| For your endurance to the end; | |
| And all the Peace there is on Earth | |
| Is faith in what your world is worth, | |
| And saying, without any lies, | |
| Your world could not be otherwise.” | 55 |
| |
| “One might say that and then be shot,” | |
| I told him; and he said: “Why not?” | |
| I ceased, and gave him rather more | |
| Than he was counting of my store. | |
| “And since I have it, thanks to you, | 60 |
| Don’t ask me what I mean to do,” | |
| Said he. “Believe that even I | |
| Would rather tell the truth than lie— | |
| On Christmas Eve. No matter why.” | |
| |
| His unshaved, educated face, | 65 |
| His inextinguishable grace. | |
| And his hard smile, are with me still, | |
| Deplore the vision as I will; | |
| For whatsoever he be at, | |
| So droll a derelict as that | 70 |
| Should have at least another hat. | |
