SIX GREEN SINGERS.
HE frost of the moon fell over my floor
And six green singers stood at my door.
“What do ye here that music make?”
“Let us come in for Christ’s sweet Sake.”
“Long have ye journeyed in coming here?”
“Our Pilgrimage was the length of the year.”
“Where do ye make for?” I asked of them.
“Our Shrine is a Stable in Bethlehem.”
“What will ye do as ye go along?”
“Sing to the world an evergreen song.”
“What will ye sing for the listening earth?”
“One will sing of a brave-souled Mirth,
“One of the Holiest Mystery,
The Glory of glories shall one song be,