What beautiful sight is this that I see,
Is it the fiery sun trying to rise,
From ‘neath the mountains where it has slept the long night,
To bathe the world in its golden rays?
Yet, still does the grey blanket of clouds strive,
To conceal its light, to keep it sleeping still,
As though ’twas night,
But ’tis not night and well the sun knows,
For though the clouds may hide its gold,
They cannot prevent the light from coming.
Francis Nelson
Christmas 1975 edition of Tbe Octagon Magazine