Pale winter’s sun with her sweet dwindling light,
To bed crept she to hide her weary face,
Whilst fell around her darkness bleak as space.
What madness might have met the fateful sight,
But for one faint and gentle spec of white?
A single flake of snow with God’s good grace,
Untouched as yet by death or human waste,
Did fair remind the world of wrong from right.
Now to this ghost both friend and foe gave chase,
With haste across the lines that had been set.
And in each other’s hearts they found a place
To rest, amidst a merry Christmas fete,
So true the violent times could not erase,
The mem’ries of when warring brothers met.