JOSEPH
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.
MARY (inattentive to his words.)
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.
JOSEPH
A King, dear wife. Who ever knew
Of Kings in stables born!
MARY
Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue
The clarion and the horn?