JOSEPH AND MARY

Mary, art thou the little maid

Who plucked me flowers in Spring?

I know thee not: I feel afraid:

Thou'rt strange this evening.

A sweet and rustic girl I won

What time the woods were green;

No woman with deep eyes that shone,

And the pale brows of a Queen.

A stranger came with feet of flame

And told me this strange thing, -

For all I was a village maid

My son should be a King.

A King, dear wife. Who ever knew

Of Kings in stables born!

Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue

The clarion and the horn?

Mary, alas, lest grief and joy

Have sent thy wits astray;

But let me look on this my boy,

And take the wraps away.

Behold the lad.

I dare not gaze:

Light streams from every limb.

The winter sun has stored his rays,

And passed the fire to him.

Look Eastward, look! I hear a sound.

O Joseph, what do you see?

The snow lies quiet on the ground

And glistens on the tree;

The sky is bright with a star's great light,

And clearly I behold

Three Kings descending yonder hill,

Whose crowns are crowns of gold.

O Mary, what do you hear and see

With your brow toward the West?

The snow lies glistening on the tree

And silent on Earth's breast;

And strong and tall, with lifted eyes

Seven shepherds walk this way,

And angels breaking from the skies

Dance, and sing hymns, and pray.