“Pierre! The Kings have come, and with them is a Child!”
Long, long ago in dear Provence was grief.
In vain the troubadour may sing Noël!
In vain the birds give thanks for Christmas sheaf,
In vain I heard, “God loved Annette so well
That He hath taken her to heaven to dwell.”
No comfort till René would whisper me:
“O brother, think upon it—who can tell?—
Perhaps there was no other way, to see!
And, Pierre, remember how she told the news to thee!”