This house I have stands deep,Dimensionless in me.Here I can sing and weep.Here God can come to be.Flimsy as an old stable,It’s a porous place to dwell.I’ve proved hopelessly unableTo seal it off from hell.The Holy InnocentsAre growing every dayIn number. Someone repentsAnd, turning, turns away.This house I have stands deep,Dimensionless in me.Keep Christmas here, Child. KeepYour weakness bright to see.
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