Christmas
Word through the world went
On Christmas morn, —
'Tidings! behold, a
Townsman is born!'
Then in their council
Smiled the high lords:
'Sword for world-conquest
'Mid a world's swords.
Need shall our armies
Have of each birth,
In that last battle
Wins us the earth.'
Still were the priesthood,
Singing the Mass:
'Lo, is our creed come
Truly to pass?
Blesséd and broken
Crumbs that we give,
Say! say, O chalice,
Can a creed live?
Then to lord Shakespeare,
Brooding alone,
While in a vision
Lear was shown,
While his just loathing
Hung over men,
Lo, from the darkness
Came Imogen.
Then said a free maid,
Heart against mine, —
Take me, lord governor,
Who am all thine!
Thou that hast blessed me
With a new light,
Ah, is thy handmaid
Fair in thy sight?'
Then said our Lady, —
'Clean is the hut,
Filled are the platters,
And the door shut.
Sit, O son Jesus!
Sit thou, sweet friend!
Poor folk have supper
And their woes end.'
'Now,' said our Father,
'All things are won:
Welcome, O Saviour!
Welcome, O Son!
More than creation
Lives now again,
God hath borne Godhead
Nowise in vain.'
Word went through Sarras
On Easter morn, —
'Tidings! behold a
Townsman is born!'