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The
Holy Night by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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The
Holy Night by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem; The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, Softened their horn'd faces, To almost human gazes Toward the newly Born: The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks Brought visionary looks, As yet in their astonished hearing rung The strange sweet angel-tongue: The magi of the East, in sandals worn, Knelt reverent, sweeping round, With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground, The incense, myrrh, and gold These baby hands were impotent to hold: So let all earthlies and celestials wait Upon thy royal state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!
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