THIS CHRISTMAS TREE, BORN OF SORROWS
This Christmas tree, born of sorrows
Broken dreams, lost tomorrows
Sterile in its beauty bright
Frigid without loving light
Even with its tiny toys
Cannot manufacture joy
Echoing such silence loud
Lasting from vile words too proud
While those who see it with despair
Pine away with earthbound prayer
Hoping for that future day
When the Child of Might will have His say
And comfort all who suffer now
And comfort all who suffer now.
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