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The old farmstead was shabby
And bore the marks of age,
There were weeds along the pathway
Among thistles, thorns, and sage.
The ancient barn was leaning
Abused by winter wind.
Here and there a rail had fallen
From the posts that fenced it in.
The farmhouse was unpainted
But its windows cast a glow
Across the deep, white blanket
Of Christmas Eve’s new snow.
The village church bells echoed
Across meadow, wood and glen,
The ancient Christmas message:
Peace on earth,
Good will to men.
--Roy J. Nichols
