A Christmas Toast

Poemata XLVII

Hereford Cattle feed at Abercrombie Ranch (1947)

They say you are what you eat, and friend
We will all be consumed in the end;
Life and time, and considering this
God could not have been remiss
In the cold at the end of time
Making right this grievous crime
And so -- though much is made of it...
The stable, a place for kings unfit
But for God? And in coming home
Found no room, for strangers come
And crowd us out, loud and crass
A babel-scene of ages past
Since an inn has room as much
For foreigners, but not for us;
Not for God, who is the King
Not for lords with gifts who bring
Tidings to unruly ones
Who come with fury for our sons;
The manger, feed-trough for a bed
Since there was no room I said;
Not for shepherds, plain and crude
Not for Him who is our food.