“Glory unto the Newly Born!” So, as said angels, she did say; Because we were in Christmas-day, Though it would still be long till dawn.
She stood a moment with her hands Kept in each other, praying much; A moment that the soul may touch But the heart only understands.
Almost unwittingly, my mind Repeated her words after her; Perhaps tho' my lips did not stir; It was scarce thought, or cause assign'd.
Just then in the room over us There was a pushing back of chairs, As some who had sat unawares So late, now heard the hour, and rose.
Anxious, with softly stepping haste, Our mother went where Margaret lay, Fearing the sounds o'erhead—should they Have broken her long-watched for rest!
She stooped an instant, calm, and turned; But suddenly turned back again; And all her features seemed in pain With woe, and her eyes gazed and yearned.
For my part, I but hid my face, And held my breath, and spake no word: There was none spoken; but I heard The silence for a little space.
My mother bowed herself and wept. And both my arms fell, and I said: “God knows I knew that she was dead.” And there, all white, my sister slept.
Then kneeling, upon Christmas morn A little after twelve o'clock We said, ere the first quarter struck, “Christ's blessing on the newly born!”