And the lark flings down her music sweet
A chain of song, each link complete;
Then a white day comes, so bland or wild,
It bears in arms the sweet Christ-child,
And hearts touch heart and hands touch hand,
While Christmas light illumes the land.
FOURTH CHILD.
’Tis the land of palms and of orange trees,
Whose lamps of gold swing in the breeze,
Where the pickaninny’s black eyes glow,