Mary, alas, lest grief and joy
Have sent thy wits astray;
But let me look on this my boy,
And take the wraps away.
MARY
Behold the lad.
JOSEPH
I dare not gaze:
Light streams from every limb.
MARY
The winter sun has stored his rays,
And passed the fire to him.
Look Eastward, look! I hear a sound.
O Joseph, what do you see?
JOSEPH
The snow lies quiet on the ground
And glistens on the tree;